Persuasion
by crushed-lilyflower
Summary: LilyxJames: "I lift my eyes to make contact with his, my heart palpitating inside me, and in that moment, in that millisecond of time...my feelings for James Potter change for good."
1. Chapter One

**_A/N: Hi wonderful readers! I hope you like the start of this story. As the summary says, it starts with Lily making James a deal that he has seven chances to prove to her that they're 'meant to be together'. It'll be funny in places and serious in places; Lily and James growing to understand each other, with the Marauders, Quidditch, the Slug Club, Snape, the War and the Order in the mix...well, don't think it'll just be James taking Lily out on 7 dates or something. Plenty to come!_**

**_Read and Review!_**

**_Much love, crushed-lilflower_**

_**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything you recognise._

_--_

**_Persuasion_**

Chapter One

**(James' point of view)**

I recognise Sirius' usual knock on my bedroom door, but fail to do more than grunt at him in my state of complete indolence. I _hate _the summer holidays. We can't use magic, we can't go to Hogsmeade every day, there's no Evans, we're torn apart from the wonderful Hogwarts banquets, there's no Evans, we get subjected to interrogations from our parents about our futures, and, did I mention Evans isn't here? It's as if when she's away from me my energy fizzes out, and I can't do much more than lie on my bed of pain and mope. Well, except for when Sirius and I go out every night and get drunk at the local pub…but, I mean, that's my way of coping with my lack of Evans.

"Prongs?" Sirius says to me as he lets himself in.

"Mmm?"

"Still sulking, then?"

"Mmm."

"Are you going to be like this until we're back at school and you can stalk Evans again?"

"Mmm."

"The Hogwarts letters are here," he tells me after a dramatic sigh.

"Mmhmm."

Sirius hands me my letter as I remain flat on my back watching the Quidditch players on the poster above circle the pitch time and time again. I notice the envelope seems to have a weighty feel to it, weird…I haul myself into an actual sitting position and tear it open half heartedly. The usual letter, start of term September 1st (as if I haven't been counting down the days since I last saw her), and book list, (at least there are only five new ones this time)…and…something shiny in the corner…

"Sirius…" I say slowly.

"What?" he says gruffly.

I tip the badge out onto my palm and stare at it in shock for several moments. Sirius looks over at my lack of a response and follows my wide-eyed gaze, his eyebrows flying up into his matted fringe when he registers what it is.

"Oh God," he moans. "You're not going to become a good boy like Remus are you?"

"Sirius!" I say excitably, grabbing his upper arm as something amazing dawns on me. "Lily! Lily's going to be Head Girl!"

"So?"

"Me Head Boy, her Head Girl…getting cosy in the Heads common room, night time patrols around the castle…d'you see where I'm going with this?"

Sirius is rubbing his forehead wearily. "Prongs," he says heavily. "If anything, all this is going to mean is when she finds out you're Head Boy she's going to rip off your testicles."

I shudder. "Merlin…you know, you're probably right," I say worriedly. "But, this is so obviously fate. You can't deny it."

Sirius scrutinizes me for a moment, tilting his head to the side and looking pensive. Finally he says, "I think we should make a game plan. If I have to suffer another week of you acting like this, I'll commit suicide. You're frightfully depressing when you're love sick. This year you'll get her."

"That's the attitude!" I beam.

"I think we're talking about the revamping of your entire outward personality," Sirius frowns. "Can you do that?"

"Sure!" I say happily, not really knowing what on earth he's talking about.

"Lesson One: Compliments…"

--

One Month Later

I stand and stare at the incredibly beauty, the glorious shimmering red, dancing in the light of the sun's filtered rays…she's truly marvellous. I could watch her all day.

The Hogwarts Express.

"Prongs, I know you're excited, but you don't have to be quite so orgasmic about the train," Sirius reasons with me.

That is a weird sentence. I start to snort with laughter very unattractively, punching Sirius lightly on the arm, when suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spot Remus.

"Moony!" I call excitably, jumping up and down on the balls of my feet and waving ecstatically. This is exactly what Hogwarts is all about; the Marauders together, the train, the smoke puffing onto the platform making you cough and stutter your way through the crowd…now, where's my Lilyflower? There she is. An electrical charge through my body, my stomach turns over and my heart skips a beat. It's amazing that even now she has no idea she has this effect on me. And when she looks at me she looks right through me…but that's going to change. She's with her Mum and Dad and that sister of hers with remarkably horse-like facial features. Moony arrives in front of me and holds out a hand politely, which is annoying as he's blocking my view of Evans. A handshake? Really, Moony?

"Moony don't be a prat," I say jokily, pulling him in for a hug. "We've been friends for years; I think we can forget the formalities!"

"I hear you've reformed," he raises his eyebrows at the badge gleaming on my chest.

"Indeed I have Moony old pal," I grin. "Not to say I won't be pulling the same old pranks," I assure him, with a side-long look at Sirius as well; I have to let my partner in crime know I'm still in business. "I'll just be more subtle about it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lady to attend to."

Sirius and Remus salute me as I go; perhaps their warped idea of a good luck. I take lengthy strides and lurk a few feet behind her as I wait for her to finish saying her goodbyes.

She hugs her Mum and Dad warmly, but I can see the awkwardness behind the charade. It must be incredibly confusing to have two separate worlds to belong to. Her family and herself living completely different lives. I wonder what it must be like for her in the holidays. At least I still have a direct connection to the magical world; she must be completely cut off. I watch as she turns to her horse/sister, and gives her a hopeful smile. Her sister laughs cruelly and stalks off with a roll of the eyes. I'm liking her less and less. Ugliness I can forgive, but rudeness to my Lily I cannot. She should feel privileged to have Lily as a sister! How dare she treat her like that--?

"Come on Mum, Dad, let's leave the freak to talk to her freaky friends," the horse girl says harshly.

Lily's Mum gives her a final kiss on the cheek, "we'll see you at Christmas," she smiles. And with that they all move off as a family to the barrier back to the muggle world. All together, Lily alone.

"I can see you there, you know," Lily suddenly calls over her shoulder.

"What, you've got eyes out of the back of your head?" I grin.

"I saw you coming over," she turns to face me nonchalantly.

"Ah. Looking at me, were you?"

She colours slightly, and I wait patiently for her to realise. She averts her eyes from my face, perhaps out of embarrassment, and they travel steadily downwards, giving me the once over. And then they come to a halt when they scan over the badge; her eyes widen enormously, her eyebrows shoot up and she draws a sharp breath.

"What—is—that?" she jabs a finger in the direction of the shiny badge.

"My Head Boy badge," I say slowly, as if addressing a three-year-old. Why do I always act like such a prick when I'm around her? It's like verbal diarrhoea; I can't control it.

"Don't patronize me," she snaps. "I cannot believe this! Has Dumbledore completely lost it? Does this mean I have to stand you near me for the _entire_ year?!"

"Yep," I trill. "Starting now. Shall we?" I offer her my arm like a perfect gentleman, just as Sirius told me to. Ah, here's an opportune moment for a compliment. "And may I say your arse looks smashing in that skirt of yours."

"You make me sick," she tells me scornfully, pushing past me and dragging her trunk with her. Now that's a bit much. She's so fantastically complex. I love it. I quickly recover and run to catch up, arriving at her shoulder in no time. She moans when she sees my quick reappearance.

"See, I don't think that's true. I think you want me."

She snorts and replies; "I think you need a reality check. You disgust me, Potter." I really think she's warming to me. We arrive at the doors to the Head carriage and Lily looks utterly miserable, as if resigning herself to the worst; an entire journey alone with me.

"Come on!" I clap her on the back to urge her forwards, and she seems to shiver at my touch. Is that good or bad? She scampers onto the train quick as can be after that, obviously eager to get away from me and my electro-touch. I hasten to follow, and, bracing myself, push open the compartment doors and casually take a seat opposite her. She's fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt, and repeatedly pushing her hair behind her ear even though it's already out of her way. She's very fidgety today. It must be the sexual tension.

"Alright there, Evans?" I ask, cocking a playful eyebrow.

"Shut up, James."

James?! Did she—did she just call me my birth given name? She's smirking widely, obviously fighting to restrain a laugh.

"Calm down, Potter, don't have an embolism. I only used your name. Although I suppose for us that must be something like third base," she adds thoughtfully. She just used me, her, and the term 'third base' in the same sentence. Oh, she so wants me. She's flirting with me, right here in our private compartment! At this rate I might be able to secure a snog before the start of term feast!

"Now, now, Evans, steady on," I wink.

She rolls her eyes and says dryly; "You're pathetic. I think I've made it clear enough how much I loathe you, Potter. _But, _since we're stuck as Heads together until next summer," she closes her eyes wearily. "Maybe we can at least go on a first name basis."

"Are you trying to say we should become friends?" I ask.

She looks murderous. I think Sirius is right; she really is going to rip off my testicles. She obviously knows I only said that to get her to admit she wants to be my friend. "Yes," she replies through gritted teeth.

"Oh, let's not play this petty game anymore Lilyflower," I smirk. She mouths the nickname 'Lilyflower' in revulsion. I continue, "You know you love me. You know we're made for each other."

She opens her mouth, but after a second or so, snaps it shut again. She's holding back from a snappy comeback? This is a moment in history! I study her expression carefully; it has changed from one of utter rage to one of far off wonderment. She seems to be contemplating some sort of plan. "Prove it to me," she says finally, her head tilted to the side and her eyes challenging.

"Prove it to you?" I repeat.

She shrugs. "If you're so sure, prove to me we're made for each other."

I blink several times. "Just to be clear; is this you giving me a chance?"

"No," she says immediately. "This is me giving you the chance for me to give you a chance."

I nod slowly. "So, how many chances do I get, for getting a chance for you to give me a chance?"

The corners of her mouth twitch slightly – I can see it, she's not fooling me, she is so nearly laughing at my incredible wit. Sadly she manages to keep it to herself, and replies; "I'll give you seven. Seven chances to prove to me that we should be together."

"Seven chances," I reiterate. That's just too easy! The Marauders and I will cook something up, and Lily and I will live happily ever after, in a lovely cottage with little Lily and James babies crawling around at our feet…Lily clears her throat, looking amused, recalling me to the here and now. I chuckle slightly and ask her; "And, just to clarify the rules of this little game, am I allowed to use any means available to me to persuade you to go out with me?"

She sucks on her lower lip for several seconds. I wish she wouldn't because it is excruciatingly attractive and is making it all the more difficult to restrain myself. One day I think I might just crack under the pressure of how radiant she is and..._jump _her or something. "Yeah, all right," she says at last. "No rules and restrictions. Use anything you've got."

She is being very daring. I don't think she realises what I am capable of, to be honest. Well, she will soon see that my powers of persuasion are something to be revered.

"Well then," I say happily. "Now that we've established the lack of rules; I think I shall go and consult with my boys over how best to begin!" I give her a wink, to which she cringes, and leave her to her thoughts. Just before I head off to find the Marauders, I stick my head around the door once again and call to her; "See you at the Prefect meeting, my future wife!"

She claps a hand to her forehead and sinks down in her seat, giving a very audible groan. Oh, she so wants me.

--

**A/N: Hope you like where this is going – review review review!**

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	2. Chapter Two

_**A/N:**_**Thanks to all of you who reviewed chapter one, it's very much appreciated! This chapter is quite a bit longer, I hope it's not boring! It's just a bit of an exploration of Lily's thoughts at this point, and the beginning of the story properly unfolding. It's also a little more serious than chapter 1, because it's Lily. Anyway read and review. Even if you tell me you hate it – I still want to know :)**

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Chapter Two

**(Lily's point of view)**

I'm vaguely aware that as the day dawns around me, and sunlight streams through the hangings of my four poster bed, I'm being gently pulled from my dreams and drawn back into reality. A reality where I've just made the most hideous mistake of my life, which I've already decided will be my subsequent demise. First thought of the day: James Potter. See how it is already affecting my sanity? I spent about half an hour in bed last night constructing a letter to McGonagall in my head;

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_I accidentally told James Potter to prove to me that we're meant for each other as a way of shutting him up on the Hogwarts Express last night, where he was acting like his usual egotistical self and irritating me beyond belief. If I could have permission to borrow one of the school's time turners to go back and rectify this catastrophic mistake it would be very much appreciated, because as you can see, I'm already going slightly insane over it._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Lily Potter._

I clap a hand to my mouth and my eyes fly open with horror. Lily…Lily _Potter_? I just thought…I just called myself Lily Potter. I feel violated. Look, it's already happening. Potter has driven me right over the edge and into the pit of lunacy. Why did I bring this upon myself? _I _let him in and all because I was so desperate to find any means of wiping that infuriating smirk off his face. This situation would probably be very amusing for an outsider; I can just picture Alice giggling herself senseless at my stupidity when I finally tell her. I suppose it _is_ funny; funny in a suicidal way. I let my eyelids droop once again and pull the bed covers up and over my head, snuggling back down into my James-free sanctuary. As soon as I leave this room I have to face him and that ridiculously messy hair of his, but for now I'm quite content to just curl up and sulk, and wonder how on earth I'm going to get out of this hole of I've dug for myself. This is what I do each morning. I wake up early, as if by my natural biological alarm clock, close my eyes and organise my thoughts. Different areas of my life are sectioned off into separate parts of my mind, labelled and categorised, and cross referenced to related events. Some people call me a control freak, including my own friends, and it's definitely true that I over think things, but in general my system has never let me down. It enables me to lead a good and organised life. There's only one anomaly which doesn't fit into the system, and it drives me up the wall because it's rather a large part of my life; the one gargantuan part of me that cannot be labelled or given any sort of logical explanation, is the fact that I'm a witch. My entire family are muggles, and yet some unknowable force gave me my powers, and chose for me to belong to this world rather than the world I was born to. And after so many mornings of contemplating this, I've been forced to accept that the only thing it can be put down to is fate, or by random process, if you like. I don't want to believe in fate. I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life. But, if I'm forced to accept there's no reasonable explanation for my being a witch, if I'm forced to categorize it as 'fate'…so far as logic can go, meeting James Potter must be fate too.

I think that's the real reason why I gave him those seven chances. I _want _to give him the chance to redeem himself for all the things he's done. Somewhere, very, _very _deep down, I secretly treasure a soft spot for him. Not that I like him, not even as a friend…I just feel this inexplicable desire for him to have a chance to prove himself. Or seven chances, even. I'm not sure why I picked seven…perhaps one for each of the six years of torment, and then one for the year he has left. He's _the_ most egotistical, bullying, naïve, stubborn and impulsive little toe-rag I ever had the misfortune to meet. But he never gives up. He never gave up on me. Surely there's something in that? I've always thought of Hogwarts as the most amazing and wonderful thing that ever happened to me…maybe James could be that too…

I suddenly sit bolt upright when I reach this alarming conclusion.

I've never delved that deep into my emotional lockdown before. Those forbidden thoughts are usually kept safe and sound in the back of my mind, guarded by strict outward defences. Dear lord.

I'm starting to think the time turner idea might be the way to go. If I end up…dare I say _falling _for Potter…no, no that's not going to happen. I hate him. Hate, hate, hate. Hate.

Well…perhaps 'violently dislike' is a better term. I'll stick with that one; use it as an insult for the next time he attempts to flirt with me.

I think, just to be safe, I'd better go and find him straight away and let him know the deal's off. I can't risk him infiltrating my mind any further. I'm already on edge because of these close sleeping quarters and our shared private common room. Does Dumbledore have a grudge against me or something? Chucking me in a secluded tower alone with Potter, I ask you. As if it isn't bad enough that he's on the other side of this stone wall…with all his belongings in _my_ common room, and his…his…_eyes_, just there, staring at me when I try to read by the fire. I tried to ignore it last night, his relentless watching me, but to no avail, and in the end had to give up and decide to read up here instead. He tried to follow me up to give me a kiss goodnight, (which I did not allow), and to my utter horror I found that the staircase did not turn into a slide. There is _no _trick stair on my staircase. He can get into my bedroom. Whenever he chooses. The teachers must think that the Head Boy is trustworthy enough to go without. They are sincerely mistaken. So it was then that I decided to install some basic defence spells. I put some rather interesting ones on my underwear drawer, boils on the penis and such. I really hope he tries to open it.

Anyway, I have a mission. Must tell James the deal's off, and that we must spend the most limited amount of time together possible. I'll give him a section of the school to patrol and I'll have a section to patrol, we can do alternate meetings with Dumbledore…in fact with a little thought we could pretty much avoid each other, most of the time—

I stop in the open doorway at the top of the stairway as my eyes land on him sitting at our shared common room table, writing speedily over a sheet of parchment; (so, we might have to study together, but that's hardly anything – I could always evacuate myself to the library). Strange. I was sure he would still be asleep and had been preparing myself to pound angrily on his bedroom door. As I continue to watch his progress and hear the sound of his quill scratching across the surface of the parchment, I'm suddenly possessed with a burning desire to know exactly what's on that paper.

Maybe it's detailed plans of how to persuade me to be his girlfriend.

He's ruffling his hair at the back as he writes, and for some deeply humiliating reason it's making me smile. If he were to turn around now and catch me staring at him transfixed with this ridiculous grin plastered over my face, looking very much as if I'm high on drugs…oh no, he's looked up. He's caught me looking. I hasten to rearrange my face to a scowl, (to very little success, now I'm just frowning and smiling at the same time,) thinking desperately of all the reasons I hate him, trying to recreate the mood of determination I was in only moments ago. The Deal. End the deal, that's it. Why is he making me feel so tranquil? Why have my knees just turned into margarine?

"Morning, Lily!" he beams.

"Potter!" I say bossily, putting on a very good impression of my usual self. I decide that I'd better go down and tower over him or something before my knees give way here and now. The situation is rather embarrassing enough as it is.

"You're last naming me," he says apprehensively. "What have I done between dinner and now? I honestly didn't come into your room – tempting as it was – I've been a good boy, I didn't even try to sneak a peek at your knickers--"

I have to bite my lower lip to stop myself from laughing at his demeanour. I read him like a book; I _knew _he'd be looking to get into my underwear drawer. I should really put some decent charm work on my door as well, to stop him from trying to pull one of his so-called amusing pranks…"Shut up, James," I interrupt, coming to a halt in front of the table he's working at. "It's much too early for your so-called comedy." I casually try to steal a glance at the paper he's writing on, but he's managed to whisk it away. Damn him and his quidditch reflexes.

"Nice Jimjams," James smirks.

--What? I glance down at my apparel and screw up my eyes. I'm wearing that stupid silky nightie my Mum bought me a few days ago. It was scorching hot last night and my only other option was flannel pyjamas, so I ended up donning this rather distasteful hooker-wear. It's really not very modest, and certain _things _are emerging over the plunging neckline like indecently heaving beasts. Crossing my arms over my chest, I manage to maintain the scowl and mentally curse my Mother. We don't all want to look like porn stars; and I'm actually starting to get genuinely concerned about the size of my breasts – if my Mother is anything to go by. She's an F cup, and her chest resembles some sort of a shelf. Believe it or not, at parties, when enough wine has been consumed, she balances plates and such _on _them, so she can carry more things at once—

Anyway, off topic.

"Potter," I revert to his surname, trying to ignore how his eyes keep travelling southwards. "The deal we made yesterday--"

"Shall we head off to breakfast?" he says abruptly, apparently not listening to a word I was saying.

"James, I'm trying to tell you something--" I tell him exasperatedly.

"I know," he nods apologetically, pushing his chair back from the table with an ear-splitting scrape. "But this early in the morning I simply cannot give you my full attention without my breakfast first. So, let's head off for some food, and then I'll listen to anything and everything you have to say, my flower."

I realise it's too early for breakfast to be out yet, most people in the castle won't be awake for another half hour or so. This registers some confusion; I always had James pegged as someone lazy who slept in until the absolute last minute. When I voice this query aloud, he replies; "I like to wake up early enough to see the sunrise. My Dad used to tell me, 'begin each day as if it were on purpose'. I like to see the dawn, so I can--"

He cuts himself off when he catches sight of my expression. I realise I'm listening to him with a gaping mouth and quickly close it, clearing my throat slightly. It's a very strange thing when you realise someone you'd always considered to be shallow and pathetic has some actual depth. To distract us both from the awkward moment, I say, "Well, anyway…it's too early. Breakfast won't be open yet."

"Oh, it's no problem," he says cheerily. "I usually go to the kitchens," he tells me, before gesturing towards the doorway on the left to the rest of Gryffindor tower. We're sectioned off from the main common room by a mere door; and given a luxury tower all to ourselves to enjoy some well-earned freedom. _Freedom,_ I ask you. This is the most claustrophobic I've ever felt in my life. Grudgingly I accept his proposal, replying, "Oh, alright. I just need to, uh, get dressed." He winks and tells me he'll wait. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; of course the Marauders have worked out how to get into the kitchens. They always bring vast quantities of food for the Gryffindor parties they throw whenever they get a chance, (usually when James wants to show off about some particularly spectacular Quidditch performance. God, he's full of it.)

I return from my dormitory fairly quickly, everything now safely tucked away in my robes, and together we head off through the door and cross the old familiar common room. I follow James through the portrait hole, and when we arrive in the corridor I look up at him expectantly, inviting him to lead the way. He gives me a wink and then drapes an arm around my shoulders, steering me away. I shrug his arm off at once, which doesn't seem to disconcert him in the slightest, and lengthen the gap between my shoulder and his. Because dangerous things happen when we touch.

We walk in virtual silence until we arrive at the entrance hall, where I ask;

"Do you actually know where you're going?"

He gives me a mischievous sideways glance and replies sceptically, "Evans, consider who you're talking to. I know everything about this castle there is to know." He leads me past the doors to the Great Hall and towards a flight of stairs to the basement.

"Oh, really? What makes you so sure?"

"We just do," he shrugs. 'We', I presume, means his Marauder pals and himself. As we descend the stairs, something occurs to me and I say, "So, what's on the seventh floor opposite the painting of the dancing trolls?"

Out of the corner of my eye I observe his baffled expression and feel a sense of deep satisfaction. After a long pause he answers me; "I don't know, Evans. What _is _on the seventh floor opposite the painting of the dancing trolls?"

I can't restrain the smile which spreads itself over my face; I just _love _it when I prove him wrong. "Spoilers," I reply, as he continues to look slightly bewildered. "I guess you don't know everything!" I chime.

"Over here," he says quietly, as we arrive in a long and dank corridor, torch brackets flanking the jagged stone walls. He steps over to a painting of a fruit bowl, and…_tickles _the pear. Is this a joke? Probably. But I could safely put my hand on my heart and swear on my _life_ that nothing is going to happen when he tickles that pear, besides me snorting with laughter—where on earth did that door come from? "Here we are!" he calls over his shoulder, pushing open the new doorway and heading into the kitchen beyond.

I follow him in with mingled curiosity and surprise, and immediately we're surrounded by…there must be at least a hundred, house elves.

"Slavery," I tell James as they happily whisk us away to a table, "That's what it is, it's disgusting, absolutely abominable—how could Hogwarts do this to innocent creatures, how could _Dumbledore _do this? I should write a letter to the Minister himself--"

Potter interrupts me by roughly spooning something into my mouth. "Taste that," he grins.

Blimey…this is actually rather good. Oh my God it's delicious. "Mmm," I close my eyes blissfully.

"Raspberry gateau, one of my personal favourites," he replies airily. "Still think it's abominable?"

"Well—I, of course--"

"Would you like a portion of the gateau to which Master James is particularly partial to?" an elf comes over to me excitedly, his voice high and his eyes adoring.

"Well—I suppose it wouldn't hurt," I shrug helplessly. The little elf hobbles off in a hurry, and I turn to James with a sceptical eye. "'Master James?' I bet you love that."

"Not as much as hearing you say it, flower," he jokes.

"I suppose there's no use me asking you politely never to call me 'flower' or, even worse, _'Lilyflower'_ ever again, is there?"

"No use whatsoever," he agrees.

As the elf returns with my gateau, I ask James impatiently, "Can I please talk to you now?" I then add to the elf kindly, "And thanks…er…"

"Binky, miss," he supplies.

"Thanks Binky," I smile.

I look up and catch James watching me with the same kind of ridiculous sappy grin I wore earlier when I saw him subconsciously mess up his hair. The thought of that makes my toes curl and my stomach churn so I decide to cut straight to the chase.

"James, the deal's off."

Those four simple words wipe the smirk clean off his face and he stares vacantly, looking completely lost for a few moments. After an awkward silence he carefully rearranges his features and takes up his usual cocky expression once again. This makes me nervous. He's probably found a loophole--

"I should've gotten you to sign a contract," he laughs, returning his attentions to his bacon sandwich.

I'm completely thrown by this mellow reaction. He's supposed to get angry! He's missed his chance with me! Not that I _care _about him not seeming to care…

No, I do care.

"That's it?" I ask blankly.

"Well, of course!" he says through a mouthful of breakfast. "I don't need that deal to make you fall in love with me Evans. It'll happen anyway."

I cock an eyebrow at his audacity, and start to feel the familiar surge of annoyance through the pit of my stomach. It's exactly this kind of attitude which I so much detest in him; he's so ridiculously self assured.

"Yeah, right," I say harshly. "Dream on, Potter."

"Well, look at it this way, Lilyflower. Why are you here with me?"

Again, completely stumped, I stuff some gateau in my mouth for want of something better to do while I rack my brains desperately for a good comeback. Why _am _I here?

"Well, because you said you needed breakfast before I could talk to you," I eventually respond. The reply lacks my usual punch but it _is_ the obvious truth.

"But you could've just waited until you saw me later," he says casually. "That's what the old Lily would've done."

Oh, Merlin. Is he implying I came here because, heaven forbid, I actually wanted to spend time with him? There is no 'old' or 'new' Lily. There is only one Lily and she is sitting right here, and she will not tolerate this kind of behaviour. He has some serious misconceptions. They must be eliminated. I can't have him wandering around the castle thinking I care about him any more than the spot lurking on the end of my nose. My mind wanders slightly back to this morning's thought revelation, and I quickly try block out all memories of it.

"James, darling, I cannot stand you," I smile sweetly.

"I don't think that's true," he says smoothly. "Otherwise you wouldn't want to break off the deal. You're worried you might fall for me."

It hits me like a slap in the face. How does he _know _that?

Clearly my expression has responded to mirror my thoughts and after a baffled silence I realise that James is grinning like a lunatic at the way my mouth has formed into the perfect 'o' of surprise. Snapping it shut for the second time today, I say nastily; "You're delusional, Potter. But you know what, just to prove to you that the idea of me and you makes me want to hurl right here and now, I'll take it back. The deal's on."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're not worried you'll crack under the influence of my roguish good looks and irresistible charm?"

"Shall I sign that contract of yours?" I narrow my eyes defiantly.

"Nope," he smiles. "Just your good word will suffice."

"Right then," I say promptly. "I promise to keep the deal. Seven chances."

James chuckles softly as he finishes up his tea, and brushes away the crumbs from his crinkled shirt. "That's all I wanted, flower."

Oh God…I cannot believe I fell into that pathetic trap.

I'm really slipping. But I can hardly go back on my word now…

"You can't go back on your word now," James trills, echoing my thoughts. He leans back and stretches in his chair, waiting patiently and looking sickeningly pleased with himself while I polish off my breakfast of raspberry gateau. I notice him alternating between ruffling his hair and turning up his collar. Oh, he thinks he's so cool. I eat as quickly as possible after that, in my eagerness to escape and talk to Alice, and once I've eaten the last few precious crumbs he gets to his feet and offers his hand. I scowl at him, trying to convey as evil a look as is humanly possible, and, ignoring his hand entirely, push past him and head back towards the door, thanking the elves as I go.

"Thanks," I hear James mutter behind me. "Shall we head to the Hall then?" he catches me up, consulting his watch. "Everyone will be up by now…"

"Together?" I ask him as we remerge into the basement corridor. "I think I've had just about enough of you for today, thank you."

His eyebrows contract slightly and for several moments we continue walking in a very noticable silence. It was supposed to be a joke...the way he's not playing along unnerves me.

"I want you to, uh…to meet my friends," he says eventually.

I reply dryly, "I've already been acquainted, thanks. I'll see you later, James."

Quickly I rush ahead, suddenly desirous to jet as fast as possible to find Alice. Alice Taylor; best friend. When things get a bit much, I have her to count on. I can handle James in small doses, but spending this much one to one time is…_confusing _at the very least. I hurry into the lovingly memorable Hall and scan the crowd to locate Alice. Oh, Merlin. What has the world got against me? She is sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Sirius Black, directly opposite to Remus and Peter. Is there no escape? Barely refraining from a miserable groan, I hesitantly approach them and collapse moodily on the bench beside her.

"Lily!" she greets me happily. "And how are you?"

I mumble something incomprehensible in reply, counting the seconds until James arrives to see his friends…and sure enough, within minutes he's taken the seat beside Remus, his expression stony.

"Prongs!" the three boys say in unison, their eyes shining with delight. '_Prongs'? _What on earth is Prongs? They're completely mental. James catches sight of my expression and gives the other three a warning look.

"The dorm was quiet last night without you, mate," Sirius tells James.

"Yeah, how's life in luxury?" Remus grins. As the reunion between the Marauders and their ringleader becomes louder and louder, I nudge Alice in the ribs, giving her a pleading glance. She nods quickly, and we both extract ourselves from the table and head off to Potions. As we leave I can just _feel_ James' eyes on the back of my head, and I double up my pace. When we reach the blissful calm of the entrance hall outside, I rush into mad explanations of the past twenty-four hours, desperate to get it off my chest and for some good advice from my best friend.

"And then I said yes—and he has seven chances, because I didn't want him to think I could fall for him, because there's no way! --and I feel really weird when I'm around him, Alice—I think I've really lost it, and I don't know what to do because he tricked me into keeping the deal on and—and he's near me _all _the time and it's so confusing--"

"Okay, okay," Alice interrupts my wild banter. "Start at the beginning," she says soothingly, putting an arm around me and leading the way gently in the direction of the dungeons.

--

An hour later and I'm much calmer. Potions. I can do Potions. Potions soothes me. I love the gentle hiss of the flame under the cauldron, and the subtle delicacy of the colour change, the precision in measuring the ingredients. Everything makes sense here. All logic, everything in black and white. No grey areas. Alice and I had begun to discuss everything outside, while we waited for class to start, and it really brought everything into perspective for me. So, he has seven chances! That doesn't mean anything. What on earth could he possibly manage that would make my opinion of him take a full one hundred and eighty degree turn? Nothing. It's not possible. But all the same; he might manage to redeem himself for his cruel behaviour in fifth year; he might amend for what he did to Severus. And I want, no, I _need _to give him that chance.

Chance.

Chance doesn't fit into the system. 'Chance', see **'fate'**, see **'confusion'**, see **'anomaly'**. See **'James Potter'.**

I've been fighting the urge to look over at him for a full hour now. I can't understand _why _I feel such a strange fascination with him, an irresistible temptation to watch him. It's bordering on dangerous stalker activity. But now, I've just about finished my potion…if I add this final drop of spider venom…it should turn into a nice pale blue…

I carefully add the venom drop at a time, and watch as my perfect potion gradually changes to the ideal colour. It's just so relaxing…

As I bring my cauldron off the boil, and cork a bottle of my completed potion, I can no longer resist the temptation to see how James is doing. Now that there's nothing for him to distract me from, it can hardly hurt.

I walk casually past his desk on my way to place my flask of potion at the front, and take a quick peek into his cauldron. My jaw drops and I quicken my pace to disguise my shock. His potion is a thick muddy green…

James Potter…is bad at Potions?

What's getting to me more than anything is how, rather than rejoicing in my being better than him, I feel an inexplicable need to help him rectify it. I hesitate at the front of the classroom, blocking out Slughorn's repetitive compliments of my potion from behind me, and stare at James, completely transfixed for the second time this morning. His brow is furrowed, and he seems to be sporting a rather deep cut on his right forefinger. He keeps running a hand through his hair agitatedly, and casting his cauldron filthy looks. It's a side to James I've never seen before. Ever the calm and collected one, this more vulnerable James softens me, and the rest of the room blacks out and it's as if all I can see is him. Once again my knees seem to melt together like ice-cream and I can hear the gentle thud of my pulse against my eardrum. I'll help him. I stop off in front of his working space on the way back to mine, and say kindly, "how's it going?"

"What do you want?" he says grumpily. Sirius is working beside him, and I can see that he's hanging on to every word of the conversation for dear life. His friends need to learn the meaning of subtlety.

Ignoring James' defensive predicament, I say quietly, "if you stir it four times anticlockwise and add two more drops of the essence of murtlap, it should be okay…"

His hand freezes in the act of chopping his ginger roots, and he frowns up at me. "You're helping me?"

I shrug, a dull blush rising in my cheeks and reply, "Well, I've already finished mine…" I then murmur a minor healing spell for his cut, and he watches as it seals itself before his eyes. He doesn't speak, but follows my instructions regardless, and continues to do so throughout the remainder of the lesson. I busy myself moving about between cupboards and my desk, making a meal of tidying up my ingredients so as to ensure Slughorn doesn't notice my helping him.

"Time's up folks! Let's see what you've concocted!" Slughorn calls out to the class. I check James' potion, which is now a light, baby blue. Not the pale, creamy colour it's supposed to be; but near perfect. Feeling pleased with myself, I give him a quick smile and turn on my heel, but he grabs my elbow and pulls me round to face him.

"Thanks," he whispers.

I find it hard to respond because the place where his fingers are touching my skin has caused a white hot dart of excitement to explode in the pit of my stomach. Eventually I manage a strangled "no problem," wrench my arm away from his grasp, and practically sprint back to Alice.

"What was that all about?" she inquires. "Helping, Potter?"

…I really do not know.

Before I can even contemplate an answer, I see a balled up piece of parchment fly through the air towards us, coming to land neatly on the desk in front of me.

Dubiously, I spread it flat out over the desk, to read;

_**Lily**_

_**Ten o' clock in the entrance hall on Saturday morning.**_

_**James.**_

Oh, God.

What have I gotten myself in for?

--

**A/N: Review! And keep reading :)**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapters 1 and 2 - they're all so positive, and I really, really appreciate it. So here's chapter 3. I hope you like what I did, here...I've retold chapter 2 but from James' POV. Anyway, you'll see. Oh, and I have had _such _a brainwave for the next few chapters...I'm excited!**

Chapter Three

**(James' point of view)**

--

"_Begin each day as if it were on purpose." _

That's what my Dad used to say to me. Well, as it happens Dad, I do have a purpose today. A true and unmistakable window of opportunity, and I am _not _going to mess this one up. This is my chance. I sigh as I recline lazily in my bed and wonder what Lily's thinking right about now; or whether she's still sleeping. In which case I wonder what she's dreaming right about now. I wonder whether she regrets what she said to me yesterday already. I'd better think of a way to make her keep to her word; I can't have her taking it back and leaving me right back at square one. Yawning widely, I realise I won't be getting back to sleep and so might as well head down to the common room and start planning out how I'm going to win the redheaded beauty's heart. I'm clinging onto the faint hope that underneath everything she's ever said to me and all the people around her, and everything she's ever even told _herself,_ somewhere deep, _deep _down she treasures a soft spot for me.

But, I could be labouring under a serious delusion.

I dress quickly, grab my wand, a quill and some parchment, and head for the door. As I swing it open, I stand still and stare at Lily's door directly opposite to mine for several moments. It was very amusing last night when she realised there was no trick stair; she started to get very jittery and nervous. Is she worried I'll come in and rape her in the night or something? I can't pretend the idea that I can access her bedroom isn't slightly intriguing, after so many years of being banned from the Girls' dorms…but then, Lily would probably kick me hard in the crotch if she found out I'd touched any of her stuff.

Coming out of my slight reverie, I shake my head and continue down the staircase, shivering slightly in the brisk early morning. I point a wand to the fireplace, and watch as last night's dying embers instantly burst into flame once more. I take a seat at the table, and head the parchment;

_Ideas for how to persuade Lily Evans to be my girlfriend_

I tickle the end of my chin with my quill as I stare down at the title. "…_Lily Evans to be my girlfriend…" _I let my mind wander momentarily…

'_Hi, this is my girlfriend, Lily Evans._

_Nice to meet you; and this is my wife, Lily Potter.'_

It certainly does have a nice ring to it. Now, how am I going to make these rather vivid daydreams a reality? I dip my quill into the inkpot, and poise it over the parchment while I consider where to begin.

…I'm stuck. I've got nothing.

Normally, I would turn to the trusty Marauders in my time of need. However, on closer examination…

Sirius: emotional maturity of a two year old.

Remus: never had a girl in his life.

And Peter, well Peter doesn't even bear thinking about to be painfully honest.

Maybe not so trusty after all. I don't think they'll be able to offer me any reasonable suggestions, and even if they could, they're not here right now anyway. Who else can I turn to for advice? I've never considered before how limited I am in this department. Everyone at Hogwarts knows who I am, and everyone _likes _me…but I only have six people in my life that I really care about (the Marauders, my parents and Lily). And only five who really care about me. (All of the above except for Lily).

I rip off the section of parchment I'd been writing on, cast it into the blazing fire, and decide that desperate times call for desperate measures. I write a letter to my Mum. She is, after all, a woman, and may be able to interpret the situation from a female perspective. Thank Merlin the Marauders aren't around to mock me for this. I can just hear Sirius taunting me forever more for 'running to mummy'. I try to be covert in my letter, not particularly desirous to go into too much detail, but soon realise if I'm to have any real success I'm going to need to be brutally honest. I explain the deal, and ask how I might be able to go about using my seven chances wisely. I'm pretty sure that seven is more than enough, to be honest. This little game that Lily is playing should be a breeze. I do wonder though why she's playing it. Is it because she secretly harbours a forbidden love for me and wants me to sweep her off her feet? Or is it some sort of a trap she's cooked up for me? I dread to think. Still, I should be thankful that we're Heads together, as it provides multiple opportunities to find out. Come to think of it, I bet Dumbledore set us up. It's the only plausible explanation for appointing me Head, to add insult to injury. But you've got to love that old kook. Just as I'm finishing up my letter I suddenly sense that someone's watching me, and look up to find Lily staring at me. She's actually _smiling. _And now she's frowning and smiling at the same time; which actually looks a little mental. There's no point trying to disguise it Lilyflower, I caught you in the act of checking me out. She obviously thinks I am roguishly handsome. I knew she did, the little minx.

"Morning Lily!" I beam at her. I notice she's eyeing my parchment with lethal interest. I'd better stash it in my bag; I would rather snog Pete than have her know I'd written to my mum to ask for help with our deal. I also see that she is rocking quite dangerously on her feet, as if her legs have decided not to support her weight. She looks genuinely lost, and slightly serene, until out of nowhere;

"Potter!"

Oh no. What have I done? I rack my brains fruitlessly for something, _anything_, I might've done between dinner and now. We got on okay last night! I was starting to think it might be smooth sailing. One exchange in particular has elated me immensely. It went something like this;

"_Lily, would you like some bread?"_

"_I'd like to shove it up your arse if you keep interrupting our conversation."_

She's such a flirt, my Lily.

Pulling myself back to reality I observe apprehensively; "you're last naming me. What have I done between dinner and now?" A just question, I think. All I've been doing is keeping to my own room like a good boy, and having very mature and…and _respectful_ thoughts. Except for my dreams, which were slightly more erotic…but I cannot be held responsible for the way in which my subconscious takes over. But anyway, how could Lily know what I'd dreamt about? The bottom line is I have definitely left her to herself. I decide on clarifying this. "I honestly didn't come into your room – tempting as it was – I've been a good boy, I didn't even try to sneak a peek at your knickers--"

She looks amused. Perhaps she has anticipated my wish to access her underwear drawer. I'd better beware of that. Once in third year, I decided it might be incredibly romantic to ask Lily out standing on the house table at breakfast in front of a very large crowd. She did not take the publicity well. The next morning I woke up with some particularly nasty boils on my—

"Shut up, James," she says briskly. "It's much too early for your so-called comedy."

I realise she's taken up a very business-like tone…as if she's decided on something important and is eager to tell me the verdict…

The deal! She's decided to back out…okay, diversionary tactic, diversionary tactic…

I give her the once over for inspiration and realise she is wearing the most sexy garment I have ever seen in my life. Is that a nightdress? They've certainly taken nightwear up a notch…tearing my eyes away from her chest with extreme difficulty, I smirk;

"Nice jimjams."

She looks baffled, as if I've interrupted her in mid flow, and follows my gaze to her apparel. She screws up her eyes wearily; clearly just realising she has come downstairs wearing this rather charming hooker-wear, common among prostitutes the world over. Not that I'm complaining, of course. As she recovers from her embarrassment I continue to contemplate how I'll convince her to keep the deal. I have to make her think it is her choice. Lily won't be dictated to…but if I manage to manipulate the circumstances so that she thinks she's proving a point…

"Potter," she asserts suddenly. I look up into her face but it's not long before my eyes begin to travel downwards. Why does she torment me so? She looks impossibly voluptuous. It is so distracting. _Think, Potter, think._ I can see what's coming from her tone of finality…how can I distract her? "The deal we made yesterday--" she begins.

"Shall we head off to breakfast?" I intercept swiftly.

This is the first thought which springs to mind. But truth be told, I am rather famished. I didn't eat much at the feast last night because I kept on offering things to Lily as an attempt at establishing small talk.

"James, I'm trying to tell you something!" she cries in exasperation. ...I love it when she uses my name. _Focus, _Potter.

"I know," I nod and push my chair back from the table. "But this early in the morning I simply cannot give you my full attention without my breakfast first. So, let's head off for some food, and then I'll listen to anything and everything you have to say, my flower."

Smooth, if I do say so myself. Her eyebrows furrow momentarily, and then she comes out with;

"It's early. How come you're awake?"

Wondering to what this question tends, I shrug and begin to tell her about what my Dad used to tell me. To my dismay she looks stunned by my words. I can't imagine why, but I cut myself off because she looks truly concerned about my health. After blinking at me a few times she clears her throat and says; "Well, anyway…it's too early. Breakfast won't be open yet."

Good lord, she has no imagination. Just barely stopping myself from rolling my eyes, I respond happily;

"Oh, it's no problem. I usually go to the kitchens." I gesture hopefully to the door to our left.

To my intense relief and slight incredulity, after a moment of clear self debate she shrugs and says; "Oh, alright. I just need to, uh, get dressed." My stomach churns slightly; we've never been alone together for any length of time before, except for yesterday when we had plenty of Head Boy and Girl duties to discuss. What if it's horribly awkward? I also wonder why she's being so tolerant of me at the moment. Well, I'm certainly not going to jinx it.

Not entirely thinking, I wink at her. Surprising me once again, she does not even flinch. "I'll just wait here," I tell her.

I'm actually pretty glad she's changing into something less revealing. I don't know how much longer I could've lasted under that pleasurable torture. Also her brief absence gives me time to come up with a strategy. And I think I might just have one…She comes down moments later in her uniform, her hair tied up into a messy bun. I observe that she still looks equally radiant; she carries of the I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look wonderfully. It's one of the things I like about her; she doesn't obsess over her looks or pile on the make-up like other girls do. Natural beauty. As we walk together down to the entrance hall, I miserably come to the conclusion that I am well and truly hooked.

"Do you actually know where you're going?" Lily asks me as we cross the entrance hall.

_Really_, Evans. I am a marauder after all. I look at her with a mischievous glint in my eye. Modestly isn't my strong point; "Evans, consider who you're talking to. I know everything about this castle there is to know."

I lead her over to the basement steps, and she challenges me; "Oh, really? What makes you so sure?"

Good grief, she does underestimate us. We're not just the average troublemakers. Our legacy will reign over Hogwarts for generations to come. Sirius and I have already planned on planting the Marauders map in the caretaker's office before we leave; so that future wrong-doers may find it and follow in our genius footpaths. We feel very much like martyrs doing this, but once we leave this place we feel that the next lot of rebels' needs are greater than ours.

"We just do," I eventually answer her. I'm not going to go into complicated explanations of six years' worth of exploration, let alone reveal any of our most heartfelt secrets.

"So, what's on the seventh floor opposite the painting of the dancing trolls?" she quizzes me.

I'm temporarily stunned into silence. Evans knows about the room of requirement?! Now that's surprising. I glance sideways at her and see her wearing a very smug expression indeed. Oh…she thinks I don't know about the room. That's cute. I think I'll humour her.

"I don't know, Evans. What _is _on the seventh floor opposite the painting of the dancing trolls?"

I should get a bloody medal for this.

She grins quite madly. I bet she's thinking how wonderful it is to have one up on me. Why am I feigning ignorance again? "Spoilers," she says at last. Spoilers? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is she planning to take me there and ravage me one day? I wouldn't object. "But I guess you don't know everything!" she trills. Oh, how wrong you are, Lilyflower.

I take her into the kitchen; try my best not to laugh at her gaping expression, and the elves settle us around a comfy little table in the centre. This is the life… until Lily starts one of her elf rights campaigns. "Slavery," she states. She's never understood the principle of house elf enslavement: they _want _to serve us. Because she comes from a muggle family, she's never really been exposed to their attitude to life. She doesn't realise that freeing an elf can often have a completely negative affect on them. It's like messing with their whole existence. It sounds awful to say it but…they live to serve. She continues..."That's what it is, it's disgusting, absolutely abominable—how could Hogwarts do this to innocent creatures, how could _Dumbledore _do this? I should write a letter to the Minister himself--"

I stuff some of my gateau in her mouth on a whim, hoping it might terminate rant mode. It works. She is clearly struggling with herself not to close her eyes in bliss. Oh, she is now doing just that. I lean back, feeling satisfied and a little preoccupied by how sexy she looked eating straight off my fork.

"Raspberry gateau, one of my personal favourites," I say airily. "Still think it's abominable?"

She stumbles over her words, clearly at a loss for what to say. Excellent; Lily Evans is cornered in her own game of conversational fencing.

"Would you like a portion of the gateau to which Master James is particularly partial to?" Binky comes over to ask her. I silently thank him for it; unbeknown to him he is about to prove my point.

"Well—I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she shrugs helplessly, as I fight the desire to laugh. Spectacular goal by Potter. 10 to nothing. The little elf hobbles off in a hurry to fetch her breakfast/dessert, and Lily turns to make a sarcastic remark on my being referred to as "Master James." I let her have it; because I think the ball is still easily in my court. She then asks me whether there is any point telling me not to call her 'flower' or 'Lilyflower'. I assure her that she is quite correct.

Just as Binky is bringing her food over, she turns to me impatiently; "Can I please talk to you now?"

Oh god, here it comes…think, Prongs, think!

Waiting for me to reply, she thanks the elf sweetly, and out of nowhere my brain goes temporarily on pause and I forget everything else to find myself regarding her with great affection. A grin subconsciously spreads itself over my face at how she seems so determined to love and care for everything around her. She doesn't get house elves; but she can still talk to them in a way that no one else can. Like an equal. It makes me feel ashamed of myself. She looks up, sensing my gaze and raises her eyebrows in my direction. She looks touched for a moment, and as if her thoughts are distant and pleasant. And then all of a sudden;

"James, the deal's off."

_Bollocks._

Lily scores. 10 all.

My smile slides off my face like stinksap as my stomach starts to bubble with disappointment. Images of Lily and I getting married, us together in our lovely cottage in Godric's Hollow, Lily with a pregnancy bump, then with our small children happily playing in the corner before growing up to be fantastic quidditch stars like me; all flash before my eyes as the film stops rolling and cold truth washes over me like a bucket of ice. We aren't together. She's not mine.

I can see her waiting for a response, and I accept that the only way to aggravate her is to completely resist an argument. What she's really looking for is for me to argue, and beg her to keep her promise because I'm so desperate to win her over that she simply cannot take this away from me. That's what she wants me to say, so that she can get the pleasure out of refusing me. What I have to do is play it cool.

"I should've gotten you to sign a contract," I chuckle, continuing to eat my breakfast. I concentrate on my food, ducking my head, because my heart is hammering in my chest and my cheeks feel flushed. What if it doesn't work? What if she just doesn't care? Eventually I chance a glance at her and see that shock is etched clearly over her features; it gives me great satisfaction to see it. That'll teach her for backing out on her own idea.

"That's it?" she asks me weakly.

James scores. And the score stands at a clear 20-10. Where to go from here? _Manipulate the circumstances, Prongs…_I can almost hear Sirius murmuring it in my ear. _Make her think it's her decision. Make her think she's trying to prove a point. _Oh…oh, I so have it.

"Well, of course!" I say casually. "I don't need that deal to make you fall in love with me Evans. It'll happen anyway." I see frustration and fear in her eyes, I can tell she's about to break…

"Dream on, Potter," she says bluntly. Not your best, Lils.

"Well," I say conversationally. I'm really getting into my stride now. I am in my element. "Look at it this way, Lilyflower. Why are you here with me?"

_That's right, Potter. Put her under pressure…easy does it…_There's a fairly long silence, and when Lily finally does speak, her reply is almost pitiful.

"Well, because you said you needed breakfast before I could talk to you."

_And Potter has an open goal…he dodges a bludger and the way is clear…_

"But you could've just waited until you saw me later," I point out. "That's what the old Lily would've done."

I notice she is, once again, completely baffled. She opens her mouth as if to speak and then quickly closes it again. I munch away on my sandwich, happily waiting for her reply. The goal is mine if I could just remove the last shred of opposition…

"James, darling, I cannot stand you," she smiles falsely.

"I don't think that's true," I continue smoothly, surprising even myself with the speed of my response. "Otherwise you wouldn't want to break off the deal. You're worried you might fall for me." I take a shot, and it's a risky one because I could be way off…I'm trying to ignore my sweaty palms as I wait for the outcome…after a silence that seems to last an eternity I can no longer procrastinate looking up, and to my amazement I see that her facial expression has frozen midway between terror and surprise, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. So…she _is _worried she's going to fall for me? I momentarily forget the match and revel in this shocking truth. Maybe there _is _hope…my stomach turns over with excitement.

I can't resist grinning like a lunatic. The opposition is down, and it's time to end the match.

Suddenly she jumps in nastily; "You're delusional, Potter. But you know what, just to prove to you that the idea of me and you makes me want to hurl right here and now, I'll take it back. The deal's on."

GOAL! 30-10 to Potter.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're not worried you'll crack under the influence of my roguish good looks and irresistible charm?" I persist.

"Shall I sign that contract of yours?" she narrows her eyes at me. In all fairness to the losing side, she is putting up a good fight. The last leg, I'm dodging a bludger and getting into position…

"Nope," I say. "Just your good word will suffice."

_…game point…if Potter could just catch the snitch..._

"Right then," she replies promptly, and my heart swells. "I promise to keep the deal. Seven chances."

AND THE MATCH IS WON! The deal is on.

I contain myself within a soft chuckle, not caring to overly exhibition myself because I know she hates that. I say happily, "That's all I wanted, flower." And I watch her progress as she realises what she's walked right into. It's like my birthday and Christmas have come together. The day James Potter outsmarted Lily Evans. Merlin, I'm glad she doesn't know what's going on inside my head. I think it highly likely a girl could take serious offence to their conversations being equated to a game of quidditch. Just to reinforce the matter and rub it in as far as I can allow myself, I chime, "you can't go back on your word now!"

After my victory, I politely wait for her to finish her breakfast, and once she's done I offer her my hand like a perfect gentleman. She gives me her absolute worst look, which I think highly unnecessary, and storms past me. It's not as if I've committed a crime; all I did was convince her to agree to something she suggested herself less than twenty-four hours ago. I'll never manage to unravel the mystery that is the female mind. Remus suggested the most ridiculous of things last term. He reckons that Lily still has some deep rooted dislike for me, for how I treated _Snivellus_ in our _fifth_ year! How absurd is that? How could anyone as wonderful as Lily Evans give two rats tails about someone as pathetic as Snape? Not in a million years. If you ask me I did her a huge favour. And anyway, I'm "reformed" now, as Remus so intelligibly puts it. I haven't pranked anyone who doesn't deserve it in almost a _year_; in fact most of my jokes these days are pretty low key – much to Sirius' dismay of course. In my opinion, Remus is barking mad, because it's as clear as day that I've become very sensitive to the feelings and wishes of others recently. And I'm betting Lily knows that. I thank the elves, and run to catch Lily up before she manages to storm off. She seems quite upset for very little reason. _Women. _

"Shall we head to the Hall then?" I catch her up and consult my watch. Eight o'clock. "Everyone will be up by now…"

She makes no reply until we're back into the basement corridor and heading for the stairs at a very brisk pace. She has surprisingly long legs, I'm having to almost jog to keep up with her. If I didn't know any better I'd say she wants to be rid of me. No, I expect she's just trying a little early morning exercise.

"Together?" she asks sceptically. "I think I've had just about enough of you for today, thank you."

Maybe not. She does give off mixed signals, I must say. I frown to myself as I consider how to reply. Is she joking or not? Maybe I should bring her to eat with the Marauders; they can observe and direct me on where to go next. An outsider's opinion; that's just what I need. Oh, and that reminds me: I'd better post my letter to mum at some point. At some point when I'm very, very alone and away from any prying eyes. Particularly Padfoot's.

"I want you to, uh…to meet my friends," I respond eventually. Oh god, 'meet' sounds a bit weird considering she's known them for six years. Luckily she doesn't seem too fazed, but I'm forced to accept she is clearly eager to get out of my sight, which is a little off-putting.

"I've already been acquainted, thanks," she says sardonically. "I'll see you later, James."

Well, that was a bit abrupt. But we're still going the same way; what is she expecting to do, just run ahead of me? Oh, she's running ahead of me. I can't help but watch her rear end as she jogs the stairs ahead. Since she's clearly desperate to get away I hang back and make my slow way to my second breakfast. I'm in no particular rush anyway; I'm fairly full from the bacon sandwich, raspberry gateau and chocolate croissant, but I do think there's room for a _little_ more. Obviously my appetite has been materially damaged by Lily's sudden rejection. She really is such a tease. Honestly, eating food off _my _fork. It cannot be denied that that is flirtation in mass proportions. It's not as if I force fed it to her!

Oh wait, I kind of did. Damn.

I see Lily turn directly into the Hall at the end of the entrance hall. Well how am I supposed to give her space if she goes exactly where I'm going? I guess we'll probably be sitting at opposite ends of the table. I trog into the Hall and immediately my eyes land on a flash of red hair; and as dire chance would have it both she and Alice Taylor are integrated completely with the Marauders. Did I just step into an alternate universe? Evans and Taylor are sitting with my friends? Great, so now I have to go and sit down with someone who determinedly snubbed me about four minutes ago. I meander over and gingerly take a seat, attempting to look glacial, and observe that Lily's expression is stony. Well, what does she expect? I'm obviously going to sit with my friends, aren't I?

"Prongs!" Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail all chorus at me as I sit down. Well, at least _they _appreciate me. I beam at them all.

I see Lily look from Alice to us and back again in confusion. She's probably wondering why my friends just named me 'Prongs'. I can see how from her point of view it is a slightly strange nickname for 'James'... I cast Sirius, Remus and Pete a warning glance and they quickly get the message. Sirius comments;

"The dorm was quiet last night without you, mate."

Aw, he misses me. I love Sirius. Oh, Merlin…

Again, so glad no one can read my thoughts.

"Yeah, how's life in luxury?" Remus grins at me. I reply eagerly; "My dorm is at least twice the size of yours, _and _I have my own private bathroom, and…"

Although my mouth continues to move and words continue to come out, my eyes and mind follow Lily and Alice as they rise from the table and leave together. For some reason, as I watch her retreating figure I feel a strange sense of loss; as if I actually_ miss_ Lily. Which is completely insane since I'll see her in about an hour. But then, I've never been the most normal of blokes.

"Prongs?" Sirius waves a hand in front of my absent expression. I realise I've trailed off mid-sentence as my thoughts have drifted. Sirius cocks an eyebrow; "any progress with her?" He jerks his head in Lily's direction.

"Nothing," I reply honestly. "Well, we ate breakfast together down in the Kitchens--" ("I hope you used protection," Padfoot teases), "--and I managed to convince her to keep the deal," I tell them impressively.

"So basically," Peter says slowly, "we're back to where we were on the train yesterday."

"Yes," I admit miserably. As a change of tack, I then ask interestedly; "why was Taylor sitting with you?"

Sirius smirks. "I was asking her what Evans likes in a guy."

My eyes widen with interest and I nod at him to continue. He doesn't oblige.

"Well?" I prompt. "What does Evans like in a guy? Let me guess, jet black and forever-messy hair, round glasses, tall and skinny, incredible at quidditch--"

"James," Remus intercepts with a roll of the eyes. Calling me by my birth given name is a sign of bad things to come; we only use it in times of frustration…usually with one another. "Alice told us; '_if you're asking for James you can tell him he doesn't have a hope in hell, and don't interrupt my conversations with Frank for pointless speculation over things that will never happen_.'"

I realise I was sitting on the edge of my seat with anticipation, and feeling deflated, quickly slouch down again. "Went well, then," I comment dryly.

"Pretty well, yeah," Sirius echoes my tone.

"And I still have no idea what to do for my first 'chance'," I say, drawing inverted commas in the air over my final word.

"Don't try to complicate things," Remus advises. "Keep it simple. Just a trip to Hogsmeade?"

My mind rewinds to earlier this morning for a fraction of a second; _'Remus: never had a girl in his life.' _Should I really take his opinion seriously? Although, I have to hand it to him; he is the only one of us for whom Lily has any sort of respect for. He has also managed many civil conversations with her in the past; I suspect she would describe them as on friendly terms. Perhaps he _is _to be trusted. Lily clearly likes geeks; they share a common bond. Maybe I should take out a stack of reading books from the library to improve my mind and then impress her with my incredulous, everlasting knowledge.

"Don't be an idiot, Moony," Sirius jumps in before I have a chance. "I suggest setting up a love nest in the room of requirement. A hot tub, whipped cream, a nice double bed…" he winks.

'_Sirius: emotional maturity of a two year old.' _I don't think so, Padfoot.

Sirius receives a painful slap on the head from Remus; which I whole heartedly agree he deserved. _Honestly. _A _'love nest'_ for Lily? She has such a greater degree of intellect and complexity to be taken in by such a vulgar gesture. A hot tub she would laugh at, a bed she would knee me in the crotch at, and the whipped cream…does sound rather enticing--No, Potter. Lily would never speak to you again.

Sirius puts his hands up defensively and says to Remus, looking affronted, "I was joking, I was joking!" He then turns back to me, and I'm impressed to see he has taken on a much more solemn expression. "Prongs," he begins. "You will only be able to win over the elusive Lily Evans, if the two of you have chemistry."

I blink at him, waiting for him to continue. He sighs, obviously expecting me to have caught on. "This means you have to be yourself, and see if the two of you connect," he says. I nod seriously, and see that Remus is regarding Sirius with mingled alarm and admiration. Clearly I'm not the only one who's surprised that he has anything constructive to contribute.

"So…what do I do?"

Sirius looks between Wormtail and Moony for suggestions, "well, I can't do everything!"

"Prongs, if I asked you to tell me what you love, what would you say?" Remus asks me.

I'm on the cusp of saying 'Lily', the word already formed on the tip of my tongue before I stop myself. I don't…I don't really _love _Lily, do I? Merlin, that's too terrifying to even bear thinking about. Anyway, it is not relevant to the question. I can hardly use Lily as a topic of conversation on a date with Lily.

"Quidditch," is the first thing which comes to mind, food in second place and sleep in third.

Sirius snorts derisively; "Lily and Quidditch? Not going to happen, mate," he shakes his head.

"Actually…" Moony says slowly. "What if you were to…give her a flying lesson?"

I look up at him with intrigue. Now there's an idea…

--

Potions. I _despise _Potions. I hate the delicacy of the colour change, I hate the way the cauldron spits out at you, I hate the unnecessary accuracy and precision in measuring the ingredients. Every lesson I take away at least one burn from my cauldron, and usually a cut from carelessly chopping my ginger roots. It's remarkable how co-ordinated I can be on the pitch and yet how uncoordinated I am down here in this dungeon of hell. One thing I cannot physically _stand _is being the worst at something. And I'm almost certain that I'm the worst in our class. I'd say that Sirius is a near miss, but I'm still defending champion of the absolute bottom of the rung. Thankfully, Slughorn thinks I'm so well connected that he tends to let his casual eye overlook my sincere lack of talent and never bats an eyelid at my dangerously poor grades: so at least I escape the misery of public humiliation. Still, I'm constantly aware of the fact that Evans excels at the subject. It makes me feel inadequate to know that she's better than me, and to know that any lesson now she could realise what a failure I am. And then I'd _never _live it down. The only reason I do the bloody subject is because it's essential for being an auror, which has been almost a lifelong dream. I refuse to have my aspirations defeated by one miserable NEWT, and so I've blundered on with Potions, and for seven periods a week I sit and endure this absolute nightmare. But now it is coming to the point where, if I don't start to improve, I won't pass my exams. I squint up at the board to read step six, second to last, and curse loudly as I realise I've skipped five out altogether. _Bollocks._

'_Step Six: keeping the cauldron on a low heat, add several drops of __Acromantula__ venom and observe as the colour changes from a vivid orange to a pale blue…'_

I look down at my apparently near-finished potion. It is certainly not a vivid orange; in fact the colour reminds me forcibly of vast quantities of snot. I glance up at step five and see that I've missed adding armadillo bile.

"Padfoot?"

"Mm?" he responds, seemingly trying to concentrate.

As I turn to him, I see with relief that his potion is a lurid yellow. Admittedly slightly closer to orange than bogey-green, but his potion is still not right.

"Have you got any armadillo bile?"

"Did you forget to add it?" Remus pipes up from Sirius' other side.

"Yes," I admit grudgingly.

"It's too late now," he tells me. _Brilliant. _Thanks for the help, Moony old pal. "If you add it now it'll turn a thick, muddy green."

How does he know so much? I swear he spends an alarming amount of time in that library. I'm so irritated with him that I deliberately disobey, and after finally locating Sirius' bottle of bile, I uncork it and dunk in a load at once, realising much too late that I forgot to measure it out. Immediately my potion hisses angrily, spitting out more than usual, and I step back hurriedly. And the next thing I know, exactly as dear Moony warned me, the potion gradually becomes a more viscous, deep, muddy green. I'm suddenly possessed with a desire to seize the damn cauldron and throw it across the room; but after several seconds pass I'm forced to see that this wouldn't help the situation. And then out of nowhere, as if to push my bad day to the absolute limit, I catch a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of my eye, and Lily struts past my desk with a bottle of perfect pale blue potion clasped in her left hand. As she passes me she makes a very unsubtle glance into my cauldron, and I wince with humiliation. She's seen my dismal attempt. She knows I'm a fraud. It's official; James Potter is bad at Potions.

And then; a miracle happens. It's as if the Gods have tested my patience and I passed. I resisted the temptation of throwing my cauldron across the room in frustration, and now I have been blessed. Lily _helps _me. For the whole remainder of the lesson she whispers hurried instructions in my ear as she makes a meal of tidying away her things. Why she's helping me is far beyond my comprehension; but I can hardly take it as anything other than a good sign. And when Slughorn eventually stands at the front and bounces up and down gaily on the balls of his feet, calling at everyone to stop working, Lily and I look down into my cauldron to see a near-perfect blue potion. I feel like a lead weight has been lifted off my shoulders; I'm not going to get a D after all…and best of all, it was all because of Lily.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't get a chance to thank her before she's headed off back to her place. Moving quickly, I seize her by the elbow and pull her round to face me.

"Thanks," I whisper. She seems lost for words for a few moments, and glances at the place where my hand is grasping her elbow several times, before murmuring a "no problem," and hurrying away.

I watch her sit down with confusion etched over my features, before spinning around to Sirius, who is predictably grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Oh, she so wants you," he beams at me as we cork samples of our potion. "Write her a note," he instructs. "Now!"

"A note?" I repeat.

"Tell her a time and a place for your private quidditch lesson," he wiggles his eyebrows provocatively. I flash him a mischievous grin and dig out a quill and parchment from the depths of my bag. Hastily, I scrawl a note, not giving much thought to the details. It's not as though I'd ever have anything planned which could take a higher priority over Lily.

I charm it to sail neatly over to her desk, and continue to pack away my things, still extremely chuffed with this happy turn of events.

--

**_A/N: Thanks for reading, please review :) _**


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: Hi, guys :) Thank you all so much for the reviews - it means a lot, and here's chapter 4. It's all very self explanatory, so there's no need for any rants here. I hope you like - and don't forget, REVIEW!**

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Chapter Four

**(Lily's point of view)**

--

Late. Potter is late. _Late. _And not even just a little bit late; over half an hour late. I'm pacing the entrance hall angrily, blind rage building up inside me, and I consult my watch for what feels like the hundredth time. Forty-three minutes late, and counting. I will actually _kill _him. How _dare _he not show up? I step over to the front doors and scan the grounds for any signs of life; but there's no one. Most people are still enjoying a late Saturday morning breakfast, others finally enjoying a chance to relax in their common rooms, and the grounds are empty. So where the hell is Potter? Come to think of it, I don't remember him coming back to the Head Tower last night after he left with Black. This is just the last thing I need. I've barely been back at Hogwarts a week, and I haven't yet had a single free evening. Between my heavy homework load, patrolling the castle, and meetings with the prefects, Potter and Dumbledore, I haven't yet managed a night of more than five hours' sleep. Needless to say I'm shattered and ridiculously stressed, and this is _not _a good day to try my patience. I could be upstairs in the common room attempting my Transfiguration essay, or catching up with Alice and Marlene, and hearing all about their summers for the first time. Or better yet; _sleeping._ And instead I'm _stuck _here waiting for James Potter, who is clearly not going to turn up! I pull the note out of my pocket for the fiftieth time today, just to make sure I haven't somehow managed to get the details wrong:

_**Lily**_

_**Ten o' clock in the entrance hall on Saturday morning.**_

_**James.**_

Clear as day. My eyes begin to smart with angry tears, and I feel so _useless, _so…pathetic. I've been stood up by James Potter. And I've got no one to blame but myself. _I_ let him in, I trusted him to be there for me. And he's just let me down again. I shake my head with disbelief, check my watch one final time to see that he's over fifty minutes late, and make a decision. Impatiently brushing away stray tears, I head for the staircase. Underneath my anger I can detect such bitter disappointment; and I don't want to admit it to myself. I don't think even I realised how much I'd been counting on him for this. I pause as I reach the first floor, draw in a deep, rattled breath, and pull myself together.

Enough now.

I can't let him walk all over me like this. No. I'm Lily Evans, and I will not be defeated by someone as insignificant as Potter. And just as I've righted myself, and I'm thinking of a lovely warm bath followed by a chat with Alice and an attempt at breaking into my enormous pile of homework; just as I'm thinking positively, I hear his voice.

"Lily!" he calls. "Lily?!"

I spin on the spot to see him in the open doorway, panting as if he's run a marathon, bent double with his hands on his knees. His robes are mud splattered and torn, and I can see that in the places where they've been slashed, his skin is scratched and bleeding. What on earth…? After a minute of deep, shuddering breaths he pulls himself upright again, and swears under his breath. He thinks I've left. He hasn't seen me yet. Half of my mind is telling me to keep going up the stairs and leave him there; the other half is telling me to grab him and throw him into the lake with the squid. And while I'm standing stock still and my brain wages war with itself; he looks up, and his eyes make contact with mine. At first he looks overwhelmed with relief; but the emotion is soon replaced with wariness. He sees my anger. He takes a few timid steps towards the stairway, looking awkward, and begins;

"I'm so sorry I'm late--"

"Where _were _you?" I hiss at him, my voice livid.

And now he looks genuinely scared. I revel in it.

"I—I was--" he stumbles over his words. After a moment of opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish out of water, he comes out with; "I was playing quidditch."

"_Excuse me?" _I ask dangerously. "You were late to meet me because of bloody QUIDDITCH?!"

He takes a step back, looking alarmed. "I think you might be oh—overreacting," he stutters.

"OVERREACTING?!" I repeat incredulously.

After several moments of a very loud silence, he says; "May I say that your t-shirt is quite wonderfully fitted about your bosom."

Caught off my guard, my mouth snaps shut and I bite back the insult I was ready to deliver. What is he going on about now? Is he trying to distract me?

"Potter, don't wander off the subject. It's not going to work," I tell him coolly.

"Look, I'm not _that _late Lily," he tries to reason with me, checking his watch. His face falls when he registers the time. "Oh…oh bugger."

"Yes! Well done Potter for checking your goddamn watch! You were almost an _hour _late!" I screech.

"I'm really sorry!" he pleads. "I'm here now, aren't I? And I had a really good reason for being late…"

"Playing quidditch?!" I spit out.

He winces at my words, as if he's forgotten he'd given such a lame excuse. I wonder momentarily whether it's a lie; he's not in his Quidditch robes, and so far as I know Gryffindor practise isn't on Saturdays, it's only during the week…he never came in last night; and he looks as if he's been through some sort of an ordeal. Well, I suppose he was probably just doing a little extra flying. He is obsessed, after all. And if he is lying, that's hardly any better, is it? I stare at him; daring him to defend himself.

"Quidditch is a lot more important than you give it credit for," he says finally. "It's very—very complex, and challenging--"

Bad move, Potter. "Just shut up about sodding quidditch!" I shout, before turning on my heel sharply and marching away from him and down the charms corridor. I hear him jogging up the staircase behind me and close my eyes resignedly. I knew he wouldn't give up that easily.

"Just wait a minute," he breathes, pulling me by the arm to face him. I hastily step away from him, fold my arms over my chest and lean my weight on one hip. The gesture clearly states; _give-me-one-reason-to-stay_.

"I don't want to miss my chance," he looks at me imploringly.

"Well then you shouldn't have been late, should you?" I seethe. But as I'm looking back at him, back into his eyes, I soften, he looks genuinely sorry…he's only an hour late…what does that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things?...and I don't know how long my resolution will hold because I can feel my anger ebbing away…would it really hurt to give him the chance? I sigh heavily;

"Oh, alright," I say reluctantly. Damn him and his hypno-eyes.

His features brighten like the sun, and my stomach flutters. I stare down and clutch it in horror. Why is my stomach fluttering? It's not supposed to be doing that! When I look up I see James staring at me with bemusement. I guess staring at your stomach as if it's done you wrong isn't exactly normal behaviour. Shake it off, Lily, shake it off. I force a grin with a slight roll of the eyes and ask; "where are you taking me, then?"

He beams momentarily, and then his expression crumples and he stutters slightly; "well—I mean, we don't _have _go where I'd planned…"

"What did you have planned?" I ask interestedly.

"Well…you know, I was…err…going to teach you a bit of quidditch…" he blushes.

Ok, that's it. QUIDDITCH?!

I throw up my hands in frustration, and scream, "THAT IS IT!"

I storm off, not even listening to his pointless ramblings from behind me, and then at the last minute spin around and say, "_levicorpus!"_

There is something very satisfying about levitating Potter to the ceiling and exposing his underwear to all of the Gryffindors just coming out from breakfast on their way back to the common room. Well done, Lily.

At least I have something to thank Snape for.

And the most ridiculous part of it is: the boy is wearing quidditch boxers.

--

**(James' point of view)**

**13 hours ago.**

I'm jittery.

_Very_ jittery.

Approximately eleven hours and ten minutes until my date with Evans.

I get to my feet and stand in front of the full length mirror of my wardrobe. I rake a hand through my hair pointlessly, and then watch miserably as it springs back up again moments later. Gone are the days when I thought it looked cool to look as if I'd just been dragged through a bush backwards. But, old habits, I still ruffle it at the back when I'm anxious about something, and so my signature messy hair stays with me. It stays that way naturally, anyway, with or without my exacerbating it. Just as I'm attempting to comb it down with water, Sirius lets himself in. I grin at him.

"Evening, Prongs," he smirks. "You ready?"

"…bit nervous," I admit.

"Nervous?" Sirius' expression registers confusion. Not a sight rare to behold, it has to be admitted.

"Well, yeah?" I furrow my eyebrows. Of course I'd be nervous before a date with Evans…I have been dreaming of it since I was about thirteen after all.

"Why?" he quirks an eyebrow. "I'd have thought you'd be used to it by now…"

"Used to it?" I repeat, nonplussed.

Sirius shakes his head slightly, "we do it every month."

"We?" I reiterate. "Every month? Sirius, what are you talking about?"

"Full moon!" he says with gusto, spreading his arms wide for emphasis and eyeing me as if I'm insane. "Transforming, running about and wreaking havoc in Hogsmeade with our werewolf best friend? What are _you _talking about?"

Oh, bloody hell.

"I was talking about my date with Evans!" I cry. I turn to the window and my heart sinks, because there's the full moon, shining over the grounds and highlighting the treetops in a silver gleam.

"You set a date with Evans tonight?" Sirius looks at me disbelievingly.

I shake my head. "Tomorrow morning."

Sirius gives a dismissal wave of the hand. "Oh, you'll be back in time, Prongs!"

The thing about Sirius is, he can be quite relaxed. Like the time he thought we could do with 'just a few more' firewhiskeys, even though we were practically already on the floor, and so as a result we were still completely sloshed the next day in Transfiguration, and McGonagall took about three hundred points from Gryffindor for us being out of bounds after hours, (and for being inebriated in class.) How she worked out that we knew the secret passageway and had snuck out in my Dad's cloak to get well and truly pissed in the Three Broomsticks is beyond me. But she did. That was one of the only days of our Hogwarts career that Sirius and I were _not_ popular. The point is, he is not the most reliable of blokes. After tonight I doubt I'll be in any shape to take Lily out for Quidditch; never mind the fact that we Marauders don't usually wake up until mid afternoon after the full moon. Usually I'd ask Remus to make sure I get there on time; but after what he'll have been through I can't ask him to worry about me.

"I said I'd meet her at ten in the morning," I tell Sirius.

"Ten? On a Saturday?" he looks aghast. He clearly did not know such a time existed.

"Padfoot, it's not early," I roll my eyes.

"Look, you can't abandon Moony," Sirius says reasonably.

"No way!" I say quickly. I wouldn't dream of it. I then add, "I could ask Lily to reschedule?"

"She would kill us all," he says immediately, and he's not even joking.

I nod seriously, "you're right."

Sirius shrugs, "you'll just have to be on time then! Rise and shine, Head Boy."

I ruffle my hair anxiously, trying to ignore the feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach.

--

**30 minutes ago.**

I stir restlessly in my position on the floor, woken by the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the boarded windows, landing fragmented on the floor and over my eyes. It's blinding. As soon as I'm awake, I'm surrounded and overcome by hundreds of thousands of scents on the air, overwhelming me with the desire to follow them. I'm aware of everything that touches me. I can hear the mice in the floorboards and yet feel the worms in the earth. It's wonderful. Everything is connected. I lean on my two front knees and stand with my back legs, stretching out my front legs one at a time. And then I heave a great yawn, pawing the ground impatiently. I want to run about in the forest, out in the open air. I want to soothe my cuts and bruises in the lake. I gently kick the enormous black shaggy dog at my feet. He does not wake. And just as I'm about to start nudging him with my great antlers, Remus walks over to me;

"Prongs, it's almost eleven!" he's shouting. "Transform!" he yells, flailing his arms about. I wonder briefly why he's so wound up. Obeying his instructions, I concentrate on the image of my human form and feel myself change.

As soon as my vision becomes blurry again, I know I'm James Potter. And suddenly it hits me.

Lily.

Date.

Now.

I'm late.

"Go!" Remus urges me, shoving my glasses onto my face. I don't need telling twice. Wincing at the intense pain in my sides, which I can feel so much more now that I'm myself again, I break into a run, just as Remus calls after me, "And don't tell Lily where you've been!"

Great, Moony. Really helpful. Now, I have about ten minutes to come up with a suitable excuse for being late, which also covers the cuts, bruises, fatigue and the fact that I never came back to the Head Tower last night. Simple. Well, I'll think of something. The most important thing is that I get there before I miss my chance.

I knew I shouldn't have listened to Sirius! That is the absolute last time.

After what seems like an hour of sprinting flat out, I collapse in a heap, panting, on the lawn beneath The Willow, narrowly missing a lethal branch before I immobilise it. But I haven't got time to catch my breath, she could have gone already. As I come up to the steps to the castle, I catch a brief glimpse of my reflection in the lake, the water of which is calm in the still mid-morning sunshine. I look sweaty, red in the face, my hair is beyond help, and my clothes are torn, with my cuts visible beneath them. Not exactly how I wanted to look on a date with Lily Evans. If I make it in time, I'll try my luck at asking her whether I can take a shower before we leave. Sadly, my experience with Lily is such that it's unlikely that she will be in any state of mind to make allowances for me. Being a little late to meet someone may seem like an everyday occurrence for the likes of Sirius and I; but for Evans tardiness is the eighth deadly sin. No time to worry though, because I've got to get there. Eventually I burst in through the double doors, and when I see the deserted entrance hall my heart sinks to my stomach. I call her name in vain; hoping she might be somewhere nearby. But I know that she's gone. I've missed her. I double up, hands on my knees, my breath coming in searing gasps. Cursing, I decide I'll have to grit my teeth and go after her. If I find her in the tower I can probably try to explain and persuade her to come back down. As I look up to the stairway, my eyes land on a red-haired girl with emerald green eyes; a beautiful girl who looks absolutely livid. The initial relief at seeing her has been replaced quite suddenly by serious apprehension. She looks bloody terrifying. Lily in rage is my boggart. Well, not _really_. Dead Lily is my boggart. Either one scares me half to death, though. I take a few wary steps towards the staircase, and try to apologise. She interrupts me swiftly, her voice trembling with fury, pink spots colouring the porcelain skin of her cheeks. Pink spots which I know for a fact, only appear when she's _extremely _angry.

"Where _were _you?" she hisses.

Oh, God. Now would be a good time to come up with an excuse, Potter. Any time now…the silence is lengthening...this must be the longest time that someone has _not _talked in the history of awkward silences...

_'Well, Lily, I transformed into a stag, being an animagus, you know, and Sirius, who transforms into a dog, and Peter, who becomes a rat, and I, the stag, accompanied Remus in his werewolf form, running with him through the forest and Hogsmeade all night, until the morning when I woke up from about two hours' sleep and realised I was late to meet you.'_

Maybe not?

"I—I was--I was playing Quidditch." I eventually stutter.

_Playing Quidditch? _What am I thinking? She's going to go ballistic.

"_Excuse me?" _she whispers dangerously. "You were late to meet me because of bloody QUIDDITCH?!"

I take a step back, cowering under her icy glare, mumbling that she might be overreacting. It was possibly the absolute worst thing I could've said.

"OVERREACTING?!" she shrieks.

I wish I could just explain where I've been. This all seems grossly unfair._ I_ get punished for taking all the steps necessary to help out my friend, who I care a lot about, and becoming an animagus in _five_ years; when it takes the average fully qualified wizard ten? The whole thing is a complete babe magnet. How could any woman resist me if they knew what a caring person I really was? I'm being deprived a complete gold mine. Sworn to secrecy, I battle on, disguising my good soul with a mask of lunacy and conceit day after day--err, anyway--Okay, I need to butter her up. Spread her on a cracker, you might say. I really need to stop spending so much time with Sirius; the sexual innuendos do start to rub off on you. But what did Sirius tell me back in my bedroom in the holidays? _Lesson One: Compliments…_it's worth a shot.

"May I say that your t-shirt is quite wonderfully fitted about your bosom," I try. She just shakes her head as if to ward off a gnat, obviously too confused by this random statement to reprimand me, and replies;

"Potter, don't wander off the subject. It's not going to work."

"Look, I'm not _that _late Lily," I plead, glancing at my watch – I see that it's now five to eleven. _Bollocks. _I curse under my breath, my face burning.

"Yes! Well done Potter for checking your goddamn watch! You were almost an _hour _late!" Lily sounds hysterical, and her face has paled with anger. There's nothing for it; I shall have to beg. Sirius once told me that there are only three things a woman needs to hear:

**1. You were right.**

**2. I'm sorry.**

**3. No, those pants don't make you look fat.**

I know that I decided never to listen to Sirius again; but what choice do I have? I'll go for number two on the list.

"I'm really sorry! I'm here now, aren't I?" I then add, without thinking, "And I had a really good reason for being late…"

Oh, Merlin. I told her I was playing quidditch for God's sake. Now it sounds as though I think playing quidditch is a perfectly legitimate reason to be late to see her. Why do I never consider what I'm saying before I've said it?

"Playing quidditch?" she pipes up.

I cringe, fighting the urge to spill the Marauders' secrets here and now so that she can understand that I wouldn't have been late for the world unless I really had to be. Maybe if I try to subtly convey the message; use 'quidditch' as a metaphor for 'transforming into a stag and wreaking havoc with my werewolf best friend.' She's a smart girl; I bet she'd catch on.

"Quidditch is a lot more important than you give it credit for," I look at her meaningfully. "It's very—very complex, and challenging--"

"Just shut up about sodding quidditch!"

Okay, maybe not.

She turns on her heel, clearly not satisfied with my lame defence, and storms off down the corridor. I take the stairs two at a time and chase after her. "Just wait a minute," I pant, pulling her by the arm to face me. She purses her lips and pulls away, leaning her weight on one hip. Her body language is such that I can tell that she's asking me to give her a reason to say. I tell her that I don't want to miss my chance; hoping she understands my meaning this time.

"Well, then you shouldn't have been late, should you?" she replies, but I can hear that her retort lacks her usual punch. She's weakening…My eyes flicker between hers, and I watch as they gradually soften. I can see her anger ebbing away; I really need to thank my lucky stars later on that I'm so good-looking. These puppy eyes can win over any woman's heart. I should pay a tribute to God for it. After what seems like hours walking on a knife edge, she draws a breath and says wearily, "oh, alright."

Oh, thank Merlin.

I beam at her, my face lighting up like a Christmas tree, and just as I'm revelling in the moment, I see her brow crease as if she's realised there's something wrong. The next thing I know she's placed both hands on her stomach and is looking down at it in horror. How odd. It's the kind of thing you see in a pregnant woman whose baby has just kicked.

Has someone impregnated Lily?

I shall have to see to them – I can learn the '_avada kedavra'_ curse, I'm sure. I can eschew my abhorrence of the Dark Arts just this once; anyone who has violated my Lily deserves to die.

"Where are you taking me then?" her voice floats through my thoughts. As my eyes refocus I see that she has adopted a normal stance once again, pregnancy seemingly forgotten. Perhaps I let my imagination run away with me slightly there. Trying to restrain a laugh at my own idiocy, I try to concentrate on the question put to me. Where _am _I taking her? I'm sure that the Marauders and I decided together…

And then out of nowhere, I can hear Moony's voice as if he were standing right beside me;

"_What if you were to…give her a flying lesson?"_

Oh, Jesus.

"Well—I mean, we don't _have _go where I'd planned…" I begin.

"What did you have planned?" she asks, cocking her head to one side. She look impressed that I had anything planned at all; maybe she won't be so upset about it.

I screw up my eyes bracingly and reply stiffly; "Well…you know, I was…err…going to teach you a bit of quidditch…" I blush furiously.

I open one of my eyes, squinting at her reaction. She looks blank for a moment, as if she can't quite believe her ears. And then she throws up her hands in complete frustration and screeches at the top of her lungs; "THAT IS IT!"

And then she's gone.

I've missed my chance, and I think I'll be lucky to get the other six…

James Potter learns in a lesson, in how to royally screw things up.

This day cannot get any worse.

Oh, wrong again. Before I've had any sort of a chance to recover, I hear the dreaded word 'levicorpus', and the next thing I know I'm being swung upside down from the ceiling by an invisible rope around my ankle, my robes cascading around my face to reveal my quidditch underwear to all of the people coming up from breakfast. Brilliant.

--

**A/N: Review, please :)**


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N: ****Thanks so much everyone for the reviews – I'm really happy you're enjoying the story. I think you'll like this chapter, it's really quite fun – also a bit fluffy. Oh, also, get yourselves comfy because it is rather long. In case it gets a bit confusing – the first part of the chapter from Lily's POV is the day after the date that never happened in chapter 4, and the second part, (which switches between James and Lily's POV) is 5 days later than that – the Friday after the Saturday of the date that never happened. Make sense? Course it does. (It will when you read it.) Okay, let's go. Oh and remember the magic word, my lovelies, REVIEW!**

**xox**

--

Chapter Five

**(Lily's point of view)**

--

"I still don't get it," Alice frowns at me.

"Still don't get what?" I ask wearily. I've been through my pathetic sob story about four times now, and would like nothing more than to forget the whole thing; a task which is proving quite difficult due to the fact that Potter and I share a living space. Yesterday's events are still all too clear both our minds and neither one of us is ready to even look the other in the eye just yet, never mind speak.

"I don't get why he would be late to meet you," she continues briskly. "Or why he lied about playing quidditch," she adds, shaking her head in confusion.

"There," says Marlene, finishing the final brushstroke of my manicure with a flourish. We're sat in a triangle on the floor of Marlene and Alice's dorm under the pretence that we're painting each other's nails, while really we all know that I've been summoned here so that my best friends can quiz me over what happened with James. I glance casually at my nails, splaying my hands out for observation, and see that she's done quite a nice job. I asked for a French manicure; much more sophisticated than colours.

"Thanks," I smile.

Marlene grins back momentarily, and then her expression shifts. Looking pensive, her unseeing grey eyes glazed over, she says slowly; "I think that whatever the reason was, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin were a part of it."

I look up from where I was concentrating on my paintwork and ask interestedly; "Really? Why do you say that?" The idea of discovering Potter's great secret is _intriguing _to say the least. What could be so dishy that he hides it even from me?

"Well," her head swivels back round to look me in the eye. "You know how you said that when you saw Potter he looked as if he'd been dragged through about ten bushes backwards?" I nod at her to go on. "Later yesterday afternoon, Black and Pettigrew came in, looking much the same, definitely a match to your description, and I heard Black mentioning to Peter that Remus wouldn't be out of the hospital wing until tomorrow night."

My eyebrows shoot up. "He's in the hospital wing?"

Marlene nods impressively. I'm starting to feel quite critically invested in the matter now.

"Well then, whatever the reason is, it must be good," Alice pipes up fairly. "Maybe you should just give him another chance, Lils--"

"No," I say quickly.

Marlene elicits an exasperated sigh, "Why not?"

"Because…all he cares about is bloody quidditch!" I say loudly. I realise that there's a lack of reasonable argument in my response, and so I explain in tones of forced calm, "Because he humiliated me, and then lied to me. I don't want to forgive him. I want to get back at him," I smirk. I then add, "And more than anything, I want to know _exactly _what was so important that he stood me up."

"Lily, you are such a drama queen," Marlene tries to sound stern, though I can see that she's struggling to restrain an excited giggle. I beam at her widely, imploring her to think of a plan. If I'm to have any help; Marlene's my best bet. Alice has such unnecessarily strong moral fibre.

"Actually," Marlene perks up after a rather short pause. "I think I might have an idea…"

My spirits soar, and ignoring Alice's judgemental sigh from my left, I lean in to hear Oh Brainy One's proposition.

"Okay, here's the plan…"

--

(**James' point of view)**

Friday evening quidditch practice is always the most difficult to get through, but I'm finding it particularly hard to get the team motivated today. My wandering mind is still straying off to the catastrophic events of last Saturday every few seconds without fail. I find myself continually dreaming up fantasy situations where I managed to get there on time and Lily and I had a wonderful time together, resulting in a wonderful snog and us moving well on our way to spending the rest of our lives together, Lily and James babies in the offing. And then someone will say my name, recalling me to my surroundings, and the cold truth settles in once again. None of it happened, and Lily and I are right back to square one. In fact, the week has been supremely hard to get through. Every moment alone with her has been awkward, and we're both so ridiculously stubborn that neither of us has so much as uttered a single word to the other. This scenario of being drawn into my own imaginary world and then drowning in self pity moments later has reoccurred four times today at least; and I'm making an exceptionally poor performance as Captain. Around halfway through practice, Sirius turns to me impatiently;

"Why don't you just go and find the girl and apologise? She's even distracting you from quidditch!" He looks stricken; apparently a girl distracting you from quidditch is a terrible crime.

"No," I answer immediately. I refuse to be the first to back down.

Sirius rolls his eyes and replies; "Well at least _try _to focus. No offence mate, but you're playing horribly."

Cheers, Padfoot, oh best pal of mine. He does not understand my deep-rooted emotional turmoil. Harsh comment delivered, he flies off at top speed to divert a bludger from Marlene before she cracks a skull. Marlene's been giving me the cold shoulder all week, too. She's good friends with Evans, that's fairly palpable, but I don't see why she has to immediately take her side just because it is her duty as a friend. She should have waited to hear _my_ side of the story first before she made an informed and reasonable decision. I mean, although there's no earthly way I could explain to her where I was, I think that Lily's revenge on me was plenty to be going on with. Being hung upside down on the first floor corridor for hours and hours, exposing my sexy quidditch underwear to the world until Padfoot eventually had mercy and let me down, was not an easy experience to forget. _Women. _I try to flash Marlene a winning smile, to which she responds with a sneer and a roll of the eyes. I guess I won't be getting the McKinnon vote. Just as I'm about to pass her the quaffle, I see her eyes alight as if she's found a pot of gold, and before I know it she's heading into a steep dive towards the ground. It's as if she's chasing the snitch; which would make very little sense considering she's a chaser…perplexed, I follow her gaze, and when I realise what she's looking at my heart jumps up into my throat.

Lily is standing on the pitch, broomstick in hand, wearing an incredibly smug expression.

What in the name of Merlin's stripy pyjamas is she doing here? I didn't know she even knew where the _pitch_ was! I'll admit I am slightly liable to exaggerate, but truthfully, the only time of year that I ever see Evans anywhere near this place, is when there's a match, and it even then it takes a lot of persuasion from her friends to tear her apart from her beloved books. And why is she carrying a broom? Does she even _own _a broom? Is she expecting to be able to join in or something? That's cute. Clearly she doesn't know how things work around here—

"Oi, Potter!" Marlene barks at me. Starting, I look down at the pair of them and see McKinnon beckoning me urgently. Intrigued, I lean into a dive myself, coming to land neatly by Lily's side mere seconds later.

"What's going on?" I address Marlene as I hop off my broom, still refusing to look Lily in the eye.

"Well, Potter," Lily intervenes matter-of-factly. Surprised at her readiness to speak directly to me, I turn to her with eyebrows raised high. She continues, "I distinctly remember you telling me on Saturday that 'quidditch is a lot more important than I give it credit for' and that it is very 'complex', and 'challenging', yes?"

Bewildered, I merely nod in reply. I _had _only said that in the vain hope that she might second guess what I meant, and work out where I had really been. Merlin, I can be seriously delusional sometimes.

"I've come to check the validity of that statement," she smirks excitably. Marlene is grinning from ear to ear alongside of her.

I shake my head. "You've come to--?"

"—prove you wrong," Lily simplifies slowly, still wearing that confident smile, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Prove me wrong?" I repeat blankly.

"Yes, Potter," she replies. Without further ado, she swings a leg over the broom and kicks off hard from the ground. I spin on the spot, eager to watch her progress, and observe her fly a lap of the pitch. My mouth falls open. She turns the corners perfectly, holds a smooth and steady course, speeds up in exactly the right places, and then to finish off she does a quick slalom of the three hoops at the other end. She's…she's _amazing. _Lily Evans…a good flier?

When she finishes her demonstration she hovers, looking down at me and quirking an eyebrow, letting out a laugh when she catches sight of my blatant shock.

I search the pitch for Sirius, and see by his gaping expression that he, too, is stunned beyond belief. When he senses my gaze, he turns to me, giving me a bewildered shrug. My eyes dart between the rest of my team, and strangely none of _them_ seem surprised in the least. On the contrary, they're all grinning in faint amusement. Clearly there were darker forces at work here. McKinnon shaped forces.

"Yeah, I told everyone," she says from beside me.

"Ah," I respond.

The corners of her mouth twitch as she mounts her broom and takes off, shouting over her shoulder; "coming?"

"What d'you say, Potter?" Lily suddenly calls from above. "Ready to take me on?"

Oh…hell, yes.

--

**(Lily's point of view)**

This is the best day of my life.

The day Lily Evans triumphed over James Potter.

I should get a bloody medal for this.

We decided on playing a little four aside game of quidditch, James and I were captains, and my side won two hundred and thirty, to a hundred and ten. _Two hundred and thirty, _to_ one hundred and ten._

Thwarting James Potter at his own team practise! Beating him at his own game! The almighty one, who brings the cup home every year, is struck down in his prime!

And now, my team and I, which consists of Marlene, Sirius, a fifth year called Colin and I, are flying a little victory lap of the pitch while flashing the other side boastful grins at every opportunity. I can't help but glance at Potter every few seconds to see whether he's looking at me; and almost every time I find that he is. But rather than finding an angry scowl etched over his features as I was expecting, he's gazing at me with affectionate, soft eyes. Every time we make eye contact I feel a sort of pang from deep within me…at which point I tear myself away and concentrate on the fact that I beat the arrogant tosser hands down.

"Alright, alright," James pipes up from the ground several minutes later, sounding greatly amused. "You can come down now!"

I chuckle, and the four of us head for where the rest are waiting patiently by the changing rooms.

"Nice one, Evans," James winks as I land smoothly by his side. "You could give me a run for my money!"

The others murmur in agreement, and I laugh again, taking a playful bow. "Come on, genius," he says, extending an arm in the direction of the castle, inviting me to walk with him. I smile brightly and fall into step beside him. It's as if rather than achieving my original intention of revenge; I've somehow succeeded in making things…well, _right, _between the two of us. And though surprised by this strange turn of events…I wouldn't have it any other way.

"How—I mean, _when _did you—how did you--" James stammers. "I didn't know you were--"

"—good?" I laugh. "Maybe you don't have me figured out as well as you think you do, Potter! And I think we can safely say I've proven that quidditch isn't as hard as you make out," I tease. After a pause, I add gently, "So, why don't you tell me the truth? Where were you on Saturday?"

His grin fades away, and his hand jumps immediately to his hair. I can feel through the silence that he's suddenly deeply uncomfortable, and one sideways glance tells me that he is undergoing serious self debate.

"Just let it go, Lily," he replies eventually as we arrive at the entrance hall. "I—I'm sorry, but it's not—it's not my _place…" _I come to a steering halt and turn to face him, studying his expression closely."But, I swear," he goes on, "the reason I was late—it was really, _really _important…"

"But not so important that you can confide in me?" I snap.

He bites his lower lip, and runs an agitated hand through his wind swept hair once again. A moment later and his hand drops to his side, defeated, and he shakes his head slightly, shrugging; "I'm sorry."

My jaw clenches as I withhold an angry retort, and instead I take a deep breath and say tartly, "See you later, James."

That been said, I storm off and up the staircase without looking back, and I can feel his eyes on my retreating figure all the way. My temporary elation is steadily dying away, but I can feel my curiosity increasing by the minute…

When I reach the Fat Lady, mumble the password and stagger through the portrait hole, I find the main common room is virtually deserted, save Remus, sitting alone by the far window and absently gazing out over the grounds.

"Remus?"

"Oh," he starts, "hi, Lily."

"Where is everyone?" I ask, making a bee-line straight to him.

"Dinner," he responds distractedly.

"They told me you were still in the--" But my sentence comes to an abrupt end as I take a seat across from him and catch sight of his appearance. Try as I might to restrain it, an audible gasp escapes my lips. There are dark shadows beneath his weary eyes, and gashes cover his face and arms, which are both heavily bruised and battered. His eyes are steady, emotionless…dead_._ My eyes widen and my lips part in shock, and I ask him in a hushed voice, "Oh my God…what on earth happened?"

He looks up at me in confusion, and then glances down to where I'm staring, looking vaguely surprised at my concern, as if he had somehow forgotten his injuries were there.

"I'm fine," he replies cheerily, looking slightly bemused.

I stare at him in disbelief. "_Fine_?" I echo.

"This is nothing," he says calmly, giving an airy wave of the hand.

"_Nothing?"_

He merely smiles, before quickly changing tack. "I heard about your little spat with James."

"Remus," I try. "What were the four of you doing? Why was Potter late to see me? Why are all of you covered in cuts and bruises?"

He tilts his head to the side, and appears to be contemplating my cacophony of questions, brow furrowed, "I thought you knew…I was sure you would've worked it out by now," he looks at me in amazement. "Failing that, I was sure James would've spilled the beans…he can never keep a secret, especially not from _you_…he really hasn't told you?

"Told me _what?_" My temper, always so close to boiling point these days, is threatening to spill over once again. Perhaps sensing this, Remus hurries on; "…you can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you--"

"I won't tell a soul," I promise, feeling a lurch of anticipation.

"Not even Alice or Marlene," he warns me.

"I won't tell a soul," I repeat.

His eyes travel about the room briefly to ensure we're safe from being overheard, and he takes a deep breath. Shaking slightly, he closes his eyes tightly, and blurts out; "When I was three years old, I was bitten by a werewolf."

The record squeaks to a grinding halt as I draw a sharp breath, and try my hardest to remember to blink, breathe, keep my heart pounding and digest this information all at once. I manage all of these things, except perhaps the latter, but appear to be temporarily rendered unable to speak, my voice sticking in my throat. Remus' eyes flicker open, and when he registers my alarm he puts his head in his hands despairingly. "I know…I know it's huge--"

At once I reach out to take his hand kindly, and just about manage a weak smile. I need him to know that I'm still here for him…even if it is a lot to take… The worry etched clearly over his features almost fades for a fraction of a second, but he says to me, "I understand if you want nothing more do with me--"

"Don't be ridiculous," I intercept immediately, and he sighs deeply with relief, releasing the breath he did not know he held in. His expression remains sombre, but it goes unmissed by me that his eyes become jubilant. My memory resets itself to times that I'd forced myself to block out: the blurred image of a terrified boy with dark curtains of hair framing his sallow face coming to me and telling me of how James Potter had dared to rescue him from uncertain death…memories of him telling me that there was something funny about that Remus Lupin…that he always took sick leave on the full moon…fragmented pictures sharpen and the sounds resonate through my mind, though pain washes over me anew…everything clicks into place. "Is that where you were? You were transforming…down the tunnel under the Willow?" I ask Remus gently.

He shakes his head slightly; "the tunnel leads to the shrieking shack…I transform there each month, so everyone's out of harm's way."

Realisation dawns on me once more. "The rumours! They say that the shack is haunted! That—that was--"

"It's me, yeah," he says miserably.

"Sorry," I rush.

"No, no," he assures me swiftly.

I give him a moment before hurrying on, "What about Potter, Black and Pettigrew? Why were they injured?" I frown. "They didn't…they didn't go _with_ you?"

To my delight, for the first time since I've been speaking to him, Remus smiles a very real smile.

"Yes," he beams. "They did."

"How--?"

"When my friends realised who I was, they started to research my condition in the library," he explains. "And a few years ago, they managed to do the most wonderful thing…"

"What? What did they do?" I lean forward in my seat.

A lengthy silence ensues, and just as I start to feel as if I'm about to _die _from the suspense, Remus draws breath. "They became Animagi."

My jaw drops, and I shake my head incredulously. Three school boys, the Marauders no less, achieving the transformation to the animagus? …Impossible.

"It was the only way," a quiet voice says simply. Jerkily, I turn in my seat to see James standing several feet behind me, his hazel eyes dark and intense behind his glasses. Before I have a chance to repress it, my stomach performs an involuntary summersault against my will. "We did what we had to do."

Before I have a chance to even attempt to rack my brains for a reply, James Potter has disappeared, and a stag has reappeared in his place. Seconds later still, and the stag transforms back into the boy.

"You see?" he asks quietly. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is hoarse and I can't quite seem to collect my thoughts well enough to construct an actual sentence. Fortunately for me, James seems to understand this entirely. "Sirius, Pete and I became suspicious in our first year," he continues, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Remus would always be excused from classes for a few days each month, always coming back looking as if he'd caught the plague and feeding us lame excuses like 'I was visiting my sick aunt,' or 'my mother was unwell.'" He flashes Remus an amused grin, who reciprocates with a slight chuckle, his eyes sparkling. I can almost _feel_ the bond between them. Somehow…I just know that these two boys are true friends. "Well," James' eyes flicker back to mine, "after a while Sirius and I began to wonder how many times his relatives could plausibly get sick without something else going on…and we started to wonder what Remus was keeping from us. In second year, Sirius finally put two and two together and realised. He noticed the pattern; once a month, every month, always on the full moon." Finally I find my voice, but James anticipates me, holding up a hand, looking amused. "I know, I know. You would think we'd have noticed it before then," he smiles. "But you'd be surprised at how little one pays attention to the lunar cycle."

I cock my head to the side sceptically, but he knows that I'm inviting him to go on. "So, after Sirius came to me and told me what he'd found out, we started to try to think of ways to help our friend straight away. We knew Remus hadn't wanted us to find out, so we didn't go to him first, didn't want to overwhelm his fragile little mind--"

"Shut up, James," Remus laughs.

"--instead we started to research how we might be able to help him. After around a month of plodding through what felt like the entire book content of the library, we found something. A tiny article, squashed into the footnotes of a huge book on dark creatures… we wondered why it wasn't more obvious, why no one had ever told Remus, why it wasn't widespread knowledge. Turns out people don't much fancy the idea of helping _'filthy half breeds'_," James looks disgusted. "But we found it. The note said that, when the werewolf transforms alone, if it has no one to…_attack_," he tries not to wince, "it can turn on itself; which explained Remus' injuries. But it also stated that if the werewolf is in the company of other animals it won't harm _them, _it only attacks humans. When with other animals, under their influence, the werewolf becomes more…safe. More tranquil."

"So, what did my crazy friends do?" Remus speaks up from behind me, his voice humorous. "The only logical thing. They became Animagi."

"We finally had our answer," James grins. "With each full moon, we'd transform with Moony and stay with him through the night, keeping him company, going through his experiences alongside him, and saving him from the worse parts of his transformation. We finally achieved it, in fifth year."

I can't quite believe my ears.

"And I thought you wouldn't want to know me," Remus says to James.

"You thought wrong," he replies, his eyes alight in that way that only his can be. As I continue my attempts to process my thoughts, something else dawns on me;

"Moony…_?" _I repeat. "And you're a stag…_Prongs_…"

"Yeah," James nods. "'Prongs' is me, 'Moony' is Remus, Sirius is 'Padfoot'; he transforms into a dog, and Peter is 'Wormtail'; he takes the form of a rat. Comes in rather handy at times."

I shake my head, rubbing my throbbing temples. "How…?" I say softly. "How did you three become Animagi, when it sometimes takes fully qualified wizards _decades_ to?"

James shrugs, looking thoughtful. "We had a real motivation, I suppose. We had a purpose, a sense of urgency."

I lift my eyes to make contact with his, my heart palpitating inside me, and in that moment, in that _millisecond _of time, my feelings for James Potter change for good. I know that I've had it all wrong…because I now realise that James Potter cares. It's in this tiny snapshot of my life, that I know things between us will never be the same again.

--

**A/N: Okay, so tell me what you think? Personally, this is my favourite chapter so far. I loved Lily's girl power quidditch bit, haha! I also tried to make Marlene and Alice really different in character – I wanted it to be realistic, so they seemed like real friends to Lily, and their own people, not just secondary characters in the story. I hope I managed that! I've had quite a while to work on it, just managed to use a USB to publish today lol, even though I'm sort of without internet on my laptop – anyway, if you have constructive criticism, you're way more than welcome. Keep reading to see what happens between the two of them next…**


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N:** **Hey guys! Long time no update, I know, and I'm really sorry! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed – I love you all! **

**This is quite a short little chapter, but I think you'll like it! Anyways, let's go – and you know the drill, please review =)**

**Lots of love, crushed-Lilyflower xxxxx**

---

Chapter Six

**(Lily's point of view)**

I stare fixedly at the page of _Transfiguration through the Years_, willing the blurred words to refocus and somehow impress some knowledge onto my brain. The library is crammed with seventh years, all of us attempting to break into our ever mounting work loads, which the teachers don't seem to understand is physically _impossible _to keep on top of. And there are several things distracting me from my homework at this point:

1. General lack of sleep.

2. Mark Waterston, a seventh year Hufflepuff, relentlessly staring at me from the other side of the desk I'm working at.

3. My mind continually straying to the subject of James Potter.

I blink my eyes back into focus, wrench my mind back to the present and force myself to read the passage bit by bit.

…_the conversion of inanimate objects to living organisms has been practised since the early seventeenth century… "--_**We had a real motivation, I suppose. We had a purpose--" **_William Yewell successfully transfigured a needle into an earthworm late 1632, resulting in other contemporary wizards experimenting with and developing this branch of magic.—__**"**_**we'd transform with Moony and stay with him through the night--"**_ The spell, _victari animatus, _is now commonly taught in wizarding schools as an early basis for the art of transfiguration, the wand movement being…__** "--**_**We started to try to think of ways to help our friend straight away--"**

I sigh exasperatedly, slamming the book shut in frustration. Over the past week I've been completely unable to empty my mind of him: of what he said, of how sincere he'd been, of what he's _done _for Remus. His words continually reverberate through my mind, interrupting my thoughts and distracting me from anything I try to do. Every time he approaches me to talk, I murmur a hurried excuse and jet as fast as possible, terrified that he might somehow sense how unnerved and confused I am. This proved to be quite a challenge, what with bumping into him at breakfast, lunch and dinner, in the common room and on patrol…and today we have the weekly one to one Head Boy/Head Girl meeting, and my luck has definitely run out. There is no earthly way we can have a one to one meeting and _not_ speak. I'm going to have to listen to what he's got to say at last…and then try to understand why I'm so nervous around him…I think maybe it's because my whole opinion of him, which I've been building up for years, has suddenly been overturned, it's as if—

"Evans?" a voice stirs me from my thoughts. "Evans…I'm trying to talk to you…"

I look up dazedly; "huh--?"

It takes me several moments to realise that the owner of the voice is Mark, and that he is grinning madly at me. "Wow," he says. "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing," I reply at once. "Nothing whatsoever, I was actually in a state of flux, my mind was blank and I was merely caught somewhere between being awake and asleep, half asleep, if you like--" I cut myself off when I catch sight of Mark's expression. He is eyeing me as if I'm insane.

"Well, now that you're back from your…'flux'," he smiles, "I was wondering whether you were thinking of going to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

"I _was," _I respond conversationally, "Alice and Marlene want me to relax a bit and go shopping with them, but I can't because I'm completely swamped at the moment and if the common room's going to be empty it's a great time to get some work done--" And then with a jolt, realisation dawns. "Wait…you're asking me out!"

He laughs. "Well observed."

I simply stare blankly.

He takes a more direct approach; "Lily, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

Trying not to appear flustered, I stare him down. Now that I'm looking properly, I realise he's actually rather good looking. Blonde hair and blue eyes. A strong jaw line…

My eyes travel down, and I note that toned arms are visible even through a shirt. Nice.

He's smart; I know by reputation that he got about ten Os in his OWLs. I'd go so far as to say he's as clever as me. And he's perfectly nice and chatty.

...So why don't I want to say 'yes'?

He's perfect boyfriend material on paper…But he's not…

He doesn't have that _thing…_

He's just not--not quite…

…he's not James.

I stand up abruptly, trying not to hyperventilate, and hear my chair crashing to the ground behind me. '_He's not James'?_ Oh...my...God.

The reason I don't want to date the perfect Mark Waterston is because he's not James Potter?! How could this happen?!

"Are you okay?" perfect Mark asks me, looking genuinely concerned for my health.

"I can't," I stutter, "I can't go out with you, sorry—it's not—I have a lot of homework, and Head Duties…"

His jaw drops. Clearly he's not used to rejection. I suppose that part of him is slightly reminiscent of Potter.

"Wait a minute," he shakes his head slowly. "You're turning me down?"

I nod, still trying hard to keep breathing, and give an apologetic head tilt. I need to get out of here—find Alice or Marlene…or go to the room--

"You're turning me down for _homework?" _He looks utterly incredulous. "You know what, Evans? My friends were right; you're just not worth it. What everyone says about you is true…" he trails off.

I forget my panic momentarily, and instead I feel a stab of annoyance. Is he really so egotistical that he has to lash out at me just because I've turned him down? Do all vaguely good looking boys think they're God's gifts to women? "Oh, yeah? What does everyone say about me, then?" I challenge.

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut a moment later, eyeing something to my left warily. In my peripheral vision I see Madam Pince approaching us, no doubt to throw us out for making noise in her beloved library. She halts at our desk, hands on her hips, peering down her nose disapprovingly.

"Miss Evans, people are trying to study!" she hisses, "either we will have silence, or you will leave. Understood?"

"Sorry," I mumble in her direction. I glower at Mark. '_Miss Evans?' _Why am _I_ being personally victimised by the insane librarian? It's hardly my fault I raised my voice and knocked my chair over; I was provoked!

"Sorry, Madam Pince, we'll keep it down," perfect suck-up Mark simpers. God, he's annoying.

She nods curtly to him and continues on to round on her next victims, a group of girls who seem to be keeping perfectly silent to me. Perhaps she thinks they're breathing too loudly. Uptight bitch.

"Go on then," I lower my voice to a hurried whisper, "what do they all say about me?" I persist.

He smiles maliciously. "That you're a boring, stuck up cow, who thinks she's better than everyone else just because she spends all of her non-existent life doing homework."

A white hot dart of anger flies through me. Too infuriated to even form words, I throw Mark a look of pure hatred, grab my bag from under the table, throw my books into it, stand my chair upright again and storm off without a backwards glance.

---

(**James' point of view)**

Breathe, James, just keep breathing.

Students in the halls are blurred in motion as I streak past them as fast as humanly possible on my way back to the Head tower. I know I'm at least twenty minutes late, but no time to stop, not even to check my watch…

Evans really is going to flip this time. As if the girl isn't unhinged enough, this must be pushing it to the maximum, she might finally crack. Things are already strained between us as it is. She's been avoiding me like the plague ever since last Saturday…

Nerves tug at my insides as I jog a shortcut from the fourth floor to the seventh. Not only does Lily think tardiness should be punishable by law, but the meeting which will hopefully commence after she's finished with me for arriving late is going to be awkward as hell as it's the first time we've actually spoken since the Marauder's secrets were dramatically revealed last week. I've got no idea what she's thinking at the moment…I've got no idea what she thinks of _me_...

Yep, definitely nervous now.

Gasping for breath and clutching a stitch in my side, I finally burst in through the door to our common room, and look around frantically for a flash of red hair. Simultaneously I thrust a hand into my robes' pocket for my wand; I may need to defend myself.

But the room's empty. She's not here. What? Surely she can't be late too? She's never late. It just doesn't happen.

Oh…_Merlin…_I bet she's already been and gone. I bet she gave up and left in a rage, armed with her wand, to hunt me down…

But why wouldn't she just wait for me to come to her? I suppose she knows I have quidditch today; it's not hard to figure out where I've been or where she has to go to find me. Perhaps she'd have enjoyed the added bonus of of being able to hex me in front of my team.

Or maybe she's not even going to show? She _has_ been avoiding me all week, jetting fast as lightening whenever I was anywhere in the vicinity. Maybe she can't bring herself to face me one to one, maybe she's too worried about whatever it is she's worried about. I'll admit, I was dreading it too…but still, I can't see that she'd ever let personal problems interfere with her Head duties. She's too committed for that…

So where is she?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, at that moment, the door bangs open, and Lily stops abruptly in her tracks when her eyes make contact with mine. Immediately, I can sense that she's very, _very_ upset. She looks thunderous; anger is practically coming off of her in waves. I grit my teeth and jump straight in with an apology, better to stop her before she has the chance to get into her stride;

"I'm sorry, Lily," I whine. "I couldn't get away, Sirius kept trying to get me to practise this new strategy for the Ravenclaw match--"

I cut myself off there, because looking more closely at her I see that she looks completely nonplussed by my apology. Moreover, I notice that her eyes are slightly red around the rims…her makeup is smudged and her cheeks are tearstained.

She's been crying.

I open and close my mouth like a goldfish out of water. Crying girls are _not _my specialty.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" she asks me wearily, running a hand through her hair.

"Well, I'm late…" I explain. "I thought that was why you came in looking like you wanted to kill someone." Oh, nice one, James. Make an inappropriate, rubbish joke instead of offering your sympathy. She'll love that.

To my astonishment, Lily laughs shakily. "No," she replies, "for once it's not your assassination I'm trying to plot." Sighing, she closes the door behind her and comes in to collapse miserably on the couch. She looks up at me, the hint of a smile turning the corners of her mouth. I smile back, but a moment later and her face falls. She looks...broken. It makes me ache.

"Are you okay?" I ask, stepping forward and sitting beside her. "What's the matter?"

There's a long pause, where I guess that she's trying to decide whether or not to confide in me. Then she takes a deep breath. "You know that guy in Hufflepuff, Mark Waterston?"

Ugh, that tosser. I wrinkle my nose. If he's done anything to hurt Lily I will emasculate him. "Yeah, I know him," I respond. "What's he done?"

"He asked me out," she says slowly. The monster of jealousy stirs within me, but I try to keep my expression politely curious while I wait for her to finish. "Oh, I said 'no'," she assures me, perhaps catching sight of my failed attempt at a neutral expression.

"You did?" I try unsuccessfully to keep the elation from my voice.

She laughs again, "yeah." The hint of a blush threatens to colour her cheeks, and as much as I'm dying to know why, I know better than to ask. "Anyway," she goes on. "When I turned him down, he didn't take it too well…"

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He said…" her voice wavers. "Well, he said that…" She gulps, a single tear rolls down her cheek.

"Hey," I say softly. Instinctively and suddenly, I shuffle closer and put an arm around her. The closeness of our bodies becomes very apparent to me; I realise we've never so much as shaken hands before. To my utter disbelief she does not shrug me off, hit me, hex me or even shout at me. She turns to look at me, her beautiful emerald eyes closer than I've ever seen them, and I feel the tense muscles in her shoulders physically relax at my touch. "It's okay," I give her a little squeeze.

"He said that everyone thinks I'm a boring, stuck up cow," she mumbles. "And that I think I'm better than everyone else."

Anger pulses in my veins. How _dare_ he tell her that? I knew I hated him.

Her eyes search mine. "Do _you_ think I'm boring and stuck up?"

Is she _joking? Boring? _She's possibly the most fascinating specimen on the entire planet. And if there is anyone less stuck up than Lily Evans, I've yet to find them. How many other people would befriend Severus Snape? How many other people would stand up to James Potter for him? She _sees _people, she understands and relates to people, and she's determined to see the good in everyone around her. Anyone could see that.

"No," I murmur. "Of course I don't think that." She smiles, some of the usual warmth returning to her eyes. "And seriously, Evans," I add, "just say the word and Mark's a footnote in history."

She elicits another shaky laugh. "Thanks, Potter," she whispers.

I reach out to gently push a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, ever waiting for the moment where she rebukes me, swats my hand away and tells me to leave her alone, but it never comes. Every tiny noise, every rustle of her shirt, every one of her slightly ragged breaths seems amplified. It's as if my dull senses have suddenly been switched on fully…her scent is _intoxicating_…

"Lily." I try to keep my voice steady. I hear her breathing accelerate. "Lily," I repeat. "Can I still have my seven chances?"

She considers me for a moment, looking into my eyes intently. I don't know what she sees there, but she must have found some confirmation, because a moment later and a slow grin spreads over her face, and she nods. "As punishment for being late the last time, and then lying to me, you are only allowed three."

Yes! Result!

"Piece of cake," I wink at her. "I bet you're only giving me less chances because you're terrified you'll fall for me," I tease.

She rolls her eyes and slowly gets to her feet. I knew we couldn't stay there forever, with my arm around her, but when she moves away I wish more than anything that she would come back.

_Don't move away, Lily._

She turns on the balls of her feet to look back down at me, arching an eyebrow. "Terrified I'll fall for you?" she echoes. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Yeah," she says. "Maybe I am."

Several emotions flow through me in quick succession: shock, elation, and then excitement.

Oh…my…bloody…God.

My jaw drops, and my eyes widen. I stare up at her incredulously. Is this her idea of a joke? Or is she honestly considering that possibility? My heartrate quickens at the mere thought of it...

"Sorry, but I'm really not feeling up to the Head meeting tonight...mind if we postpone it 'til tomorrow?" Still in my stunned stupor, I close my mouth and nod quickly. "Goodnight, James," she chuckles, and I follow her with my eyes in wonder as she goes up to her room.

This has got to be the best day…ever.

'_Terrified I'll fall for you?...Yeah, maybe I am.'_

---

**A/N: Talk to me! Please review, I really, _reallllyy_ appreciate it =) **


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